Out of the Safety of the Woods
by No Tears
Summary: Legolas is waylaid and taken captive. Forced into bondage by a man determined to break him, will Legolas's spirit stay whole until he is rescued? Will rescue even come? WARNING Contains Legotorture 63004 UPDATED
1. Safety Denied

Title: Out of the Safety of the Wood  
  
Authors: No Tears, with a considerable amount of help from Dollrandir  
  
Summary: Making their way back into Mirkwood, Legolas and Naruhitu are attacked, and  
Legolas is taken captive while Naruhitu is left for death.  
  
Rating: R  
  
Warning: Violence/torture and some sexual content. Here be Legotorture! Can't get enough of it,  
can ya? There will be nothing overly graphic in the latter category (sexual content), however,  
since I (No Tears) have to heed the ratings of FF.Net. ::rolls eyes::  
  
Disclaimer: We don't own anything made by Tolkien! Naruhitu, however, belongs to Dollrandir.  
All the other icky bad guys are mine!  
No Tears's Notes: This is my first posted fanfiction! I've got a lot of help from Dollrandir on this  
one. She's really good at deciding various torment for characters, I've found. Which is a little  
disturbing, now that I think about it. Reviews and constructive criticism will be very much  
appreciated!  
  
Dollrandir's Notes: Yes...I'm writing another story with another friend. This is gonna be a little  
on the dark side. Well, compared to my other works it will be! Go ahead and read and hope you  
enjoy!  
  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
  
Part 1: Safety Denied  
  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
  
The atmosphere was welcoming and the air warm as the sun made her way, glorious as ever,  
across the mid-day sky. The blades of grass upon the plains sang loudly as breeze after breeze  
rippled softly through them. A pair of birds chased each other through the air, chirruping happily  
in the peace of the area. A mother doe grazed silently with her fawn, ears flicking as she kept on  
the alert for any predators.   
  
A very small forest started in the west, extending only a league across the land. From this forest  
afox came, bright eyes gazing around as he moved forward. His eyes rested on the doe and fawn  
tentatively before he took another step away from the forest, searching now for something to  
hunt. He was rewarded almost immediately, catching sight of a small rabbit coming out of her  
den.   
  
This particular area was a favorite hunting ground for this fox, as rabbits were always good in  
abundance. There always seemed to be just enough of the rodents as their numbers never  
dwindled. Likewise, foxes were never scarce, though this day very few were up and about. Most  
were lazing away in the sun's rays somewhere in the forest.   
  
Ears pricked in interest and hunger, the fox stood completely still as he stared at his prey. As he  
waited the rabbit hopped farther away from the safety of her hole, obviously confident enough  
that she would be safe. The fox prepared to lunge, eyes fixed on the unsuspecting rodent.  
  
Suddenly, the rabbit's head shot up, and with a quick glance towards the forest she darted back  
into her hole. Surprised and flustered, the fox raised his own head, and his ears caught the sound  
of footsteps and horses coming nearer at astonishing speed. Not wasting a moment, the canine  
bolted off passed the doe and her offspring. The doe, too, looked up then, dark eyes searching  
before she began to bound off while her fawn tried his best to keep up.  
  
The clearing was eerily silent then, save for a distant rustling that was growing ever more loud as  
whatever was creating the noise neared. The beat of horse hooves echoed through the air, and  
distant shouting rang out. There was a swish, and then an unmistakable cry of pain, followed by  
the sound of a body hitting the ground. A horse neighed in fright, and there was more shouting.  
Then the sounds resumed as before, and for a moment everything in the clearing seemed to be  
holding its breath, as if anticipating the arrival of the makers of these noises.  
  
Two figures burst from the trees, their legs pumping as they bolted across the plain. They made  
very little sound even as they sprinted through the clearing, making for the forest that extended on  
the other side. One, a long, dark haired Elf turned and glanced back behind them, before urgently  
turning to his companion.  
  
"They've almost caught up, Legolas!" he cried, his voice hoarse but not breathless from the  
intense exercise.  
  
The other's eyes narrowed as he continued on. Each wore an empty quiver on their back, the only  
reminder of the arrows that had once been inside being a small piece of feather here or there. The  
only weapons they now possessed were a long knife and a sword. Gripping the hilt of his smaller  
weapon more tightly, Legolas pressed on faster.  
  
"Mayhap we should stop?" the uncertain voice of the raven haired Elf asked.  
  
In reply to this Legolas only grit his teeth and moved even faster. Looking to the other in a flash  
of doubt, the dark haired Elf sped up as well, his confidence in his companion's lead slowly  
turning over to his realization of the precariousness of the situation.   
"We must keep on moving." the golden haired Elf said, speaking at last to his friend. "Follow the  
wind, Naruhitu, and do not falter!"  
  
Nodding once, the other Elf kept his pace, and risked another glance back into the forest, which  
was steadily moving more into the distance. Before his eyes, horses pounded out from the trees  
just as he and Legolas had done moments before, the riders looking none too happy. Turning his  
head back, Naruhitu dodged a rabbit hole and moved up to Legolas's side.  
  
"Did you really think it necessary to punch that man?" he asked, voice tinged with exasperation.  
  
"He insulted you, Naruhitu," Legolas said flatly. "And I could see his own intentions were none  
too kind."   
  
"Ah," Naruhitu said, glancing once more behind them and grimacing when he saw the horses were  
gaining. He looked at Legolas. "I'm sure your astonishing communication skills made them see  
the err of their ways. Do you think they are any better now?"  
  
Despite himself, Legolas's lips curved a little in a small smile. "No."  
  
"Really?" Naruhitu raised his eyebrow as his voice tinged with even more sarcasm. "That's too  
bad. I had hope we would be having tea with them. Or perhaps inviting them to join us on our  
journey back to your father's kingdom to treat them to some of his rich wine."  
  
"Naruhitu, come off it, will you? I am in no mood to be in the mood for jests."  
  
"No mood to be in the mood?" The dark haired Elf shook his head in amusement despite the  
situation. "I believe that is a new one."  
  
Rolling his eyes at the remark, Legolas sped up until he reached his limit. Naruhitu began to lag  
behind because of the immense speed; the dark haired Elf was not as fast as the prince. Sensing  
this, Legolas slowed just enough for Naruhitu to catch up, though the golden haired Elf's dread  
was growing with every closer hoof beat.  
  
"I told you we should not have gone that way." Naruhitu sighed.  
  
"And I am supposed to be certain of the whereabouts of every mortal on Arda?" Legolas  
demanded.  
  
"No, but you could have at least given my direction some thought. That way we could have been  
heading the opposite way in fact, the way we are heading now."  
  
The forest began again before them, and the two Elves felt relief soar through them as they got  
closer and closer to the trees ahead. Legolas's eyes widened as a neighing reached his ears, and  
eight horses with riders exploded from the trees that they were moving towards. The  
princesharply turned, only to find his path blocked by more riders. Naruhitu did the same with the  
other  
direction, gaining only similar results. They were surrounded.  
  
"You were saying?" Legolas asked as he backed up into Naruhitu.  
  
"And I am supposed to be certain of the whereabouts of every mortal on Arda?"  
  
The two Elves desperately searched for a way out of the problem they now found themselves in,  
but could not formulate any immediate plan to escape it. Several of the men took out bows, which  
were strung with arrows and them aimed directly at the two Elves.  
  
"You've got nowhere to run, Elflings." one of the men said.  
  
Naruhitu gazed about him before whispering in the prince's ear. "He's right, Legolas."  
  
"Silence yourself, Naruhitu!" the prince ordered, giving a sharp glance at the other before turning  
back to continue his assessment of the situation. Unfortunately, he was coming to much the same  
results as the others were.  
  
"Just drop your weapons, and less harm will befall you."   
  
"Less harm?" Naruhitu asked, his eyebrows raising. "Oh, surely we'll be hearkening to your  
wishes now."  
  
"Naruhitu if you do not shut your mouth I shall do it for you!" Legolas said through clenched  
teeth.  
  
Looking over his shoulder at Legolas, the dark haired Elf murmured his apology and turned his  
attention back to the men surrounding them on his side. Keen eyes scanned the horses and their  
riders, looking for a weak spot that might be exploited so they could make their escape. It was no  
use, Naruhitu soon found, for the men were all well dressed with armor that was obviously not  
part of their usual garb.  
  
He guessed that they must have been a part of the tribes of men that were scattered throughout  
Middle-Earth. While not really violent in nature, these tribes were constantly staging battles at  
each other for power and money. Usually other races were not bothered because of this, but he  
and Legolas had been unfortunate enough to stumble upon this particular traveling band. What  
then ensued happened a little too fast for the dark haired Elf to recall properly. He did know that  
one of the men had bumped into Legolas somehow, though how exactly was beyond Naruhitu as  
the two had made sure they were steering clear of the men. Legolas had favored the man with a  
glare, and in turn the man grew angry and began shouting at Legolas. Not wishing for the man to  
invoke the wrath of his friend, Naruhitu had tried to calm the human, who had then turned on him  
and yelled at him as well. The man was completely overreacting, but so did Legolas. With a  
particularly annoyed, indignant, and hateful look on his face, the Elven prince had punched the  
man in the face after he had said something extremely obscene towards Naruhitu. That was whena  
chain reaction occurred. One of the other men of the band had seen Legolas punch the man, and  
he called out to his companions. The two Elves had tried to explain that the man had threatened  
them first, but their explanations were ignored and the men eventually ended up giving chase to  
them.  
  
Which is how we end up here. Naruhitu thought with a mental sigh. Valar, Legolas, you are  
going to get me killed!  
  
Naruhitu felt a light touch at his right thigh then, and after a second realized that Legolas was  
indicated he wanted to try to escape by using the men on the right. Looking out of the corner of  
his eye so as to not give the men any real indication as to what their actions were to be, Naruhitu  
saw that one of the men was seated upon a rather nervous horse that could be used in their  
advantage.   
  
"At least you are not just a good for nothing prince." Naruhitu whispered so that his words would  
not be carried to the mortals' ears.   
  
"Let's just find what you are good for, then." Legolas replied, equally quiet. He could see that the  
men were watching his lips move, but from the smiles that appeared on their faces he concluded  
that they thought he was doing it in prayer and not in communication.  
  
"Lay down your weapons." Legolas supposed that it was the leader who was now speaking so  
coldly towards them. "The order will not be repeated again."  
  
"Then you are doing yourself a favor in saving your breath." Legolas said boldly. "We will not  
surrender."  
  
Raucous laughter was the answer to his words, and he clenched his jaw in annoyance. Several of  
the men, however, seemed a little perturbed by his confidence, and at this he inwardly smirked.  
  
"Do not think that we are unaware of how your kind acts, Elf." the man sneered. "I know that  
you wear the garb of those of the Woodland kin. Do not think that I am a man so foolish as the  
others of my own kin."  
  
Legolas furrowed his brow slightly as he gazed at the man addressing him, and a small chill of  
uncertainty ran down his spine. He was suddenly not so sure of himself, and realized that there  
was something happening that he could not yet perceive. His senses suddenly screamed, and his  
eyes shot to the right, opposite of the direction he and Naruhitu had been planning to make their  
move. His eyes were quick enough to just catch a glimpse of a heavy rope woven net that  
descended upon he and Naruhitu. He heard the dark haired Elf's cry of alarm, and then the two of  
them were hacking as well as they could through the intricately woven net. Their efforts were  
foiled when several more nets were thrown upon them, the weight almost bearing both to their  
knees.   
  
Legolas felt his heart begin to beat a little faster. He had not been expecting this. Through the  
nethe could see the men dismounting and making their way over, and several drew blunt looking  
clubs. His eyes widening, Legolas tried to move more swiftly to cut through the net, but it was all  
in vain.   
  
He saw the first club descend, and then everything mingled with black until he knew no more.   
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
********** 


	2. Secured

Title: Out of the Safety of the Wood  
  
Authors: No Tears, with a considerable amount of help from Dollrandir  
  
Summary: Making their way back into Mirkwood, Legolas and Naruhitu are attacked, and  
Legolas is taken captive while Naruhitu is left for death.  
  
Rating: R  
  
Warning: Violence/torture, bdsm, rape, and all that good stuff. I've decided to go further into this  
fic and explore the realm where Legolas is in a non-consensual Master/Slave relationship.  
Eventual slash! Though nothing really graphic will be placed in this version of the story, as I must  
heed the rating rules of FF.net. But, if there is a more graphic version of a chapter and you wish  
to read it, I will be placing the website for it up when the time comes.   
  
Disclaimer: We don't own anything made by Tolkien! Naruhitu, however, belongs to Dollrandir.  
All the other icky bad guys are mine!  
  
No Tears' Notes: This is a SHORT chapter! It will undoubtedly be the shortest chapter I ever  
write, so have no fear!  
Part 2: Secured  
Legolas fought the urge to moan as he was thrust back into the conscious world with a huge wave  
of discomfort. Blinking dulled and confused eyes, the prince found himself surrounded in total  
darkness. He was lying curled on his side, and his body couldn't quite seem to follow the orders  
of his hazy mind as he tried to move. Whatever he was lying on was cold and hard, and he  
thought he could feel it moving. Or maybe it was just that the world would not spinning; he  
couldn't tell.   
  
The floor beneath him suddenly gave a jerk up and then down, causing him to accidentally smack  
the side of his head onto the hard surface when it came down. He gave a sharp gasp at the impact  
and sudden harsh pain, then shut his eyes tightly and groaned as the fire spread through his mind.  
Well, now I know that wherever I am is moving, Legolas thought as he forced his eyes open again  
to get a better idea of what was going on. That bit of pain had further spurred his mind into  
control, and he could almost force his lax limbs to move.  
  
As his eyes cleared even more, he could make out dark bars surrounding him in what looked like  
a small cage. Over the cage it appeared a blanket of some sort had been draped, obscuring the  
outside world from his vision while plunging his into almost pitch black.   
  
A great surge of alarm filled the prince, and he immediately tried to rise. To his further anxiety, he  
found his wrists had been bound tightly behind him with strong manacles, and a similar pair were  
restraining his legs at the ankles. A strip of leather had been wrapped around his mouth, tying it  
shut tightly. The prince felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest and tried to call out, finding the  
leather to be an effective gag that allowed no great amount of sound to escape him. He tested his  
restraints, and the adrenaline in his system aided in his strength, but no amount of struggling could  
release him from the tight bonds.   
  
Closing his eyes briefly, the prince opened them again as he tried to remember what had occurred  
to lead to this. It all came flooding back to him: the man cursing at Naruhitu, him striking the fool  
to the ground and then the ensuing chase that ended in them surrounded and his eventual loss of  
consciousness. The pain he had felt in his head before had significantly decreased, and he could  
guess that all he had was a mild concussion from the blow to the head he'd received.  
  
But where was Naruhitu? His thoughts suddenly went surging by as he tried to find any memory  
of his companion after the nets and the blackness. His concern grew, until he was nearly frantic  
with worry for his friend. The worst part of it was he was helpless to find anything out at the  
moment. All he could do was wait.  
  
And so wait he did.  
**********   
"Come on, Elfling, you can do better than that!"  
  
Naruhitu groaned as another kick was aimed at his abdomen, causing him to curl into a fetal  
position in order to protect himself. About six men stood around him in a circle, each taking turns  
in beating him as he lay helpless in the dirt with his arms bound behind him. This activity had been  
going on for about ten minutes now, with the men showing no signs of letting up in either their  
harsh blows or excessive taunts and jeers.  
  
A kick to his left eye had caused it to swell almost immediately, making him rely almost entirely  
on his right eye for his vision. Not that there was much he wished to see; the maliciously grinning  
faces of the cruel men towering over him had made him cringe more than once already. And even  
his right eye's sight was becoming blurry due to unshed tears.  
  
A hard fist crunched into his jaw, and he let out a muffled grunt. Boots smashed into his ribs and  
stomach, and he bit back a wail as one of them managed to find an area that had already contained  
a broken rib. His face contorting into a grimace, Naruhitu took shallow, wheezing breaths in  
through his clenched teeth as he tried his best to endure the pain. The men around him continued  
to laugh.  
  
"Looks like this one's almost finished, boys." one of the men chuckled, his harsh baritone grating  
on the dark haired Elf's hearing.   
  
Stifling another moan that was beginning to make its way up his throat, Naruhitu shook his dark  
hair out of his eyes to turn wary and pain-filled eyes on his captors. If they were going to kill him,  
then he was going to watch them as they did it and not avert his eyes like the coward he had acted  
so far.   
  
He had seen them throw an unconscious and bound Legolas into a cage in the back of a wagon  
just before his beating had started. There had been several men, women and children in what  
looked like one giant caravan. One of the men had grabbed a thick, dark layer of cloth and thrown  
it over the cage in which Legolas had been imprisoned, perfectly camouflaging it. Anyone who  
would pass would think it was merely a box covered in a cloth, not a small prison for an Elven  
prince.   
  
The younger Elf had cursed at the men and yelled at them to set Legolas free, but they had only  
laughed at him. He had lowered his head in shame, and tears of frustration and despair welled up,  
but he would not allow himself to cry. To do so would be submitting himself even further to even  
lower indignity. Yet he could not bring himself to fight anymore, even when the caravan-like  
group had begun moving away, along with Legolas, who he could not even see. He had just stood  
there, his eyes desperate, but his body unmoving. Once the group had gotten a fair distance ahead,  
he had been thrown to the grown and that was when the beating had started.  
  
As the sun's rays shone down on him now, he resisted the urge to cry out his anguish. Who knew  
what penalties Legolas was going to suffer for his stupidity. And as for himself...well, he was to  
die in the dirt, wallowing in self shame and despair for a comrade. He could think of hardly any  
worse fates than these.   
  
He wished Legolas was there. At least if he had been then he would be able to lend some of his  
strength so Naruhitu would not be so terrified of death. Biting down on his tongue as a sob  
threatened to break from him, the Elf cursed himself and his cowardice. Even when it was Legolas  
who was in most desperate need now he still thought of himself. Maybe he deserved this.  
  
One of the men smiled cruelly down at him, taking a blunt club from his belt and raising it above  
the bound Elf. He swung down, missing the raven haired Elf's head and landing a blow to his  
shoulder. Naruhitu could not suppress the smothered yelp that escaped him as his shoulder  
protested painfully to this treatment. This just amused those around him.  
  
"C'mon, Turkan!" one of the men laughed. "You are the most blind fool I've ever known. Hit his  
head!"  
  
The man named Turkan turned slight red with embarrassment, but raised the club again. Naruhitu  
fought the urge to close his eyes, silently giving a prayer to Elbereth for Legolas's safety. The  
club swung down, hitting his skull with a deafening crack, and then it was over.   
**********   
  
The wagon had stopped.  
  
Legolas strained his ears, listening intently for anything that would indicate movement on the  
outside. There were several things that did, actually, but he had earlier learned that these were  
merely people walking alongside wherever he was. If they knew that he was trapped inside here,  
then they payed him no heed. What he was listening for now, was any sign that someone was  
approaching where he was imprisoned.   
  
He finally caught the sound of footsteps crunching gravel underfoot, and when they got close he  
heard the rustle of the fabric as the veil over his confinement was removed. Quickly closing his  
eyes before it was completely taken away, the prince tried to give off the deceptive air that he was  
yet unconscious. He could feel the presence of the man who had removed the blanket behind him,  
and he knew that was where the man currently stood, watching him. The warm sunlight felt nice  
on the Elf's skin, and he longed to open his eyes to gaze at the sun herself.  
  
A loud human voice sounded out then, and he made himself be still. "See here, this Elfling thinks  
he's smart!" There were a few chuckles, and then someone roughly grabbed a fistful of his hair,  
shaking his head slightly. "Open your eyes! I know you're awake; I heard the clink of your chains  
while up front."  
  
Resigning himself for the moment, Legolas clenched his bound hands in slight anger and opened  
his eyes.  
  
"There's a good lad." the voice said, and his head was wrenched so that he was forced to turn and  
look up into the face of his apparent captor.  
  
He was a doughty man with a red beard that framed his face in lines of thin stubble, and his long  
auburn hair was tied back with a black strip of cloth. Keen, dark, apathetic eyes ran over  
Legolas's body, checking that the Elf was still secured. Any questions that would have spilled  
forth from Legolas's mouth were kept restrained behind the tight leather encircling his head. All  
he could do was glare in mute anger at the man, who was not even making eye contact with him  
at the moment as his eyes lingered on the curves of his prisoner's body.   
  
"You'd best keep your pretty words in your throat." the man said then, his gruff voice low as his  
eyes came back to lock onto Legolas's. "As long as you're in my care, you'll remain gagged. I've  
worked with Elves ere now, and I know the nature of their voices. They can sway the hearts of  
their captors. Or, at least, that's the case with my men, bloody weaklings that they are." The man  
seemed to be speaking more to himself than Legolas now. "They've been the cause of four  
escapes this year. I'm not going to have another one, especially when the price for one of your  
kind is being payed by a rather wealthy man."  
  
Legolas tried to draw his head back when the man brought a hand up to cup his chin. The hand  
still fisted in his hair tightened, and he winced and ceased his struggles. The man's eyes looked  
deeply into his, and then a smile formed on the other's face.  
  
"I can see the wildfire searing in your eyes." The fingers on his chin clenched harder, causing the  
man's short nails to dig into his skin. "I don't take kindly to bad attitudes around here, Elfling. I  
tell you now that should you get on my bad side, the outcome will be excruciating for you. I've  
dealt with your kind before, so don't think I am unaware of what it takes to make an Elf scream."  
  
Legolas's glare did not waver, and he did not outwardly show the inner fear that was growing  
within him. The man held his eyes for a moment more, before releasing his chin and using the  
hand that was still in his hair to pull him back to the position he had been lying in. The blanket  
was once more placed over the cage, leaving Legolas in darkness.  
  
"We continue on until nightfall," the man's voice boomed. "Then we make camp. If I catch  
anyone messing around with the prisoner, they'll have to deal with me." 


	3. No Hope For Escape

Title: Out of the Safety of the Wood  
  
Authors: No Tears, with a considerable amount of help from Dollrandir  
  
Summary: Making their way back into Mirkwood, Legolas and Naruhitu are attacked, and  
Legolas is taken captive while Naruhitu is left for death.  
  
Rating: R  
  
Warning: Violence/torture, bdsm, rape, and all that good stuff. I've decided to go further into this  
fic and explore the realm where Legolas is in a non-consensual Master/Slave relationship.  
Eventual slash! Though nothing really graphic will be placed in this version of the story, as I must  
heed the rating rules of FF.net. But, if there is a more graphic version of a chapter and you wish  
to read it, I will be placing the website for it up when the time comes.   
  
Disclaimer: We don't own anything made by Tolkien! Naruhitu, however, belongs to Dollrandir.  
All the other icky bad guys are mine!  
  
No Tears' Notes: Sorry for the delay of this chapter! I will try to get the next one out sooner, but  
as of now I'm not gonna promise anything!  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
Part 3: No Hope For Escape  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
Dantar watched impassively as five of his men uncovered the cage where the Elf was being kept.  
Twilight had begun its descent nearly an hour ago, and had finally given way to darkness. The  
caravan never traveled during the day, for the chances of opposing forces attacking were too  
great. One had to be on their guard while moving about in this land. Several nomadic groups lived  
here, and were constantly competing with each other. Though death in great numbers was  
somewhat of a rarity, thieves and slave traders such as himself were not.  
  
Dantar had come into slave trading at a very young age, and under his father's tutelage had  
become very proficient at it. When he turned 33, he had grown tired of catching men, and had  
decided that he was going to try for the unheard of task of catching a full grown, male warrior Elf  
to sell as a slave. The first attempts were horribly futile, and he nearly lost his life on more than  
one account. However, he had soon found the best ways to render an Elf unable to escape  
capture. The ambush technique used on the Mirkwood prince and his companion was just one of  
many. He also found out soon enough that if an Elf was not securely held and watched at all times  
then there was a good chance it would escape.   
  
And his talent was not merely in slave trading either, but many masters required his help when  
dealing with an impossibly disobedient slave. In the past, those who had taken an Elf slave and  
refused his assistance had met with several large complications. The Elf would either escape or be  
killed by the master's foolish actions, and even on one account the Elf had murdered his own  
master before he himself was slain.  
  
Dantar knew that the particular buyer of his newest acquisition would gladly take his offered help.  
The man looked forward to breaking the luscious beauty inside the cage that was now being  
opened. He knew that this would be an especially delicious experience, for the Elf was more fair  
than any being he had previously laid eyes on, and had the will and ferocity of a tiger to match.  
But, even tigers can become but obedient kittens under the right persuasion, he thought with a  
smirk.  
  
Folding strong and well muscled arms, the man watched as the Elf was roughly yanked out of the  
cage by a group of his men and set on his feet. The captive's ankles were to remain bound  
securely together; Dantar was taking all precautions necessary to keep the Elf under his power.  
He was well aware of the great balance Elves possessed.  
  
His eyes glittered as he watched the lithe body of the Elf begin to fight against the men holding  
him, then doubled over when a painful fist crashed into his stomach. The Elven prince was trying  
to protect his bruised abdomen from any more harsh blows, and the men around him took  
advantage of his bent over position by grabbing his hair tightly to hold his head down. The Elf  
jerked against their grips, but his attempts to dislodge them did no good as they firmly pressed  
him down. Dantar saw another man approach with a length of rope and begin to wrap part of it  
around the prince's neck. The man watched as shock registered in the Elf's eyes followed by a  
fierce struggle as he tried to prevent the man from tying off the loop around his neck. He made it  
hard enough that they had to force him to the ground and hold him there to finally get the rope  
bound tightly enough around his neck.  
  
They pulled him to his feet, and with three men, two of which who were grasping his arms and the  
third holding the lead of the rope, he was hauled forward. Though resist he might, he could not  
defeat the odds against him and was eventually dragged over to where Dantar was standing. The  
stance of the Elf was awkward because of his bound ankles, but he managed an air of dignity and  
lifted his head proudly to gaze at Dantar through intense blue eyes that seemed to swirl with dark  
storm clouds.   
  
Nodding to the men holding the prisoner, Dantar gestured to a tree that stood a ways back from  
the nearest fire, signaling for them to put the captive there. The men immediately complied, once  
more dragging the prince until they were next to the tree. Dantar watched as the backs of the Elf's  
knees were kicked, forcing him to kneel on the ground as the rope that was connected to his neck  
was bound about the girth of a large tree, making him remain kneeling on the soft soil and dry  
leaves. One of the men who had bound him gave him an annoyed slap before all of them walked  
off to join the others around the campfire.  
  
Giving the Elven prince a smile that was responded to with a heated glare that shook Dantar  
down to his very bones, the man turned and seated himself in front of the warm flames. Lifting a  
water skin, he took a swig from it and then grabbed a piece of meat to eat. He glanced back at the  
Elf, knowing it had been a while since the Elf had eaten and that the creature would be feeling  
slight hunger pangs now. He knew, however that the prince could endure much more. The Elf  
was going to have to endure more, for Dantar found one of the best ways to tame a slave was to  
keep them on the edge of hunger and thirst. It made a lot of things easier, for one.  
  
Turning back to face the warming flames, Dantar smirked as he heard the slight chink of the Elf's  
chains as he shifted on the ground. The Elf was probably searching for a way of escape. Slim  
chance that would be. There were guards stationed in great numbers around the perimeter of the  
camp and the wagons to prevent thieves from making off with goods. Dantar saw that some of  
the children who were quite curious about the prisoner, and their innocence allowed them to look  
freely upon him whereas other adults were forced to look away from the heat of his gaze. That is,  
until their mothers realized what they were doing and were snapped at for gazing at the Elf.  
Usually after this, the children would no longer look in the Elf's direction, or if they did their eyes  
were filled with fear. Dantar wondered what it was the mothers were telling their children that  
would elicit that type of reaction in a child.  
  
After consuming his meal, the man once more looked back at the prince, finding the Elf gazing up  
at the stars. It was an interesting thing that most of the Elves he had taken captive did. Being  
deprived of the stars and life around was another factor that produced great results in training.  
The Elf was going to have to enjoy this night while it lasted. Dantar had much in store for him,  
and allowing him out of the dungeon where he would be staying was not one of them.   
  
Glancing up at the stars himself, Dantar was unsurprised to find that most of them were slowly  
being covered with thick, dark rain clouds. They had been expecting a storm for about a week  
now, and it seemed that tonight would be the night when it finally began. Dantar cared little about  
this inconvenience, for the worst it would do would be to give him a wet and muddy Elf to sell.  
He was sure that the buyer would not particularly be stressed about this point.   
  
Deciding that watering the Elf might be a good idea, Dantar rose and walked over to the prince  
and kneeled before him, a small smile on his lips. The Elf's reverie was shattered when he realized  
the man was there, and he locked eyes with Dantar and glared his hatred through eyes that  
seemed to contain all the wrath of the Valar in their depths. The man slowly drew a knife from his  
belt and held it against the prince's cheek, his eyebrows rising in slight amusement when the Elf  
did not even flinch at the cold steel.   
  
Gently pressing the cold blade to his captive's cheek, Dantar gave the Elf a calculating look. He  
let the blade idly trace little lines across the prince's face, being sure to never pierce the seemingly  
soft, pale and creamy skin. The knife then came to rest horizontally under the Elf's chin, and  
applying slight pressure, the man forced the prince to tilt his head so he was now gazing down his  
nose at the man.  
  
"I trust you are thirsty." Dantar said softly after inspection. "I'm going to remove your gag so that  
you may drink." Even though thirst was one of the techniques he would use to break the Elf, he  
did not wish for him to die of it. And training would not be starting just yet, anyway. "You say a  
word, I slit your throat. Understand?"  
  
The Elf's eyes flashed with fire and he made a small growling sound in the back of his throat, but  
otherwise made no move.  
  
Dantar smiled. "I thought you would."  
  
Keeping the knife in place, the man moved his hand behind the Elf's head, his nimble fingers  
swiftly undoing the tightly knotted leather. He felt a slight twinge of admiration as the Elf hid well  
the discomfort at the circulation returning to his lower jaw at having the leather removed.  
  
His eyes ever remaining on the Elf as if fearing he would vanish should the man look away,  
Dantar took the water skin from his belt and lifted it to the Elf's face. "Now, are you going to  
drink this or do I have to force the water into you? I won't have you dying of thirst."  
  
The Elf hardened his eyes but made no move. Dantar turned to find a few of his men watching  
him, and nodded them over. Small smiles blooming on the mens' faces, they walked over behind  
the Elf, boots making soft crunching sounds on the leaves as they did so. Almost in unison, they  
grabbed the prince's shoulders harshly and roughly threw him onto his back, knocking the wind  
out of him with a grunt. One of the men gripped his nose tightly and Dantar shoved the water  
flask between his lips. Sitting back on his heels, Dantar waited patiently as he watched the Elf's  
throat move each time he swallowed. Only when half the water skin had been consumed did the  
man finally withdraw it.  
  
The Elf only lay still and quiet, obviously aware of the knife that Dantar had returned to his throat  
after the flask had been taken. The man's keen eyes stayed on the Elf as he was still for a few  
moments, as if daring the captive to cry out or even utter a word. After the Elf made no move  
whatsoever, Dantar nodded slightly to the guards that remained behind the prince, signaling for  
them to restrain him once more. The Elf was forced up and onto his knees, and two hands - one  
from each of the men holding him - fisted in his hair. The other two remained on his shoulders.  
  
Dantar smirked at the prisoner, enjoying the way the blue eyes glittered dangerously at him,  
sending shivers down his spine. "Y'know Elf?" he said, raising one dark eyebrow. "I'm beginning  
to like you."  
  
Reaching forward, Dantar roughly shoved the leather back over the Elf's mouth, then wrapped it  
behind his head where it was tied painfully tight once more. Chuckling a little, the guards holding  
the Elf released their hands from him, allowing him to kneel on his own. Giving one last smile to  
his captive, Dantar moved back at the fire to join in on the song that was now going on. As he  
sang, the man could feel the heated gaze on his back, and his smile grew. The anticipation of what  
was to come greatly filled him.  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********   
  
Clapping.  
  
Someone was clapping.  
  
Or maybe it was the sound of several Elves running through the Halls of Mirkwood. Elves that  
would be nearby, for the sound was very loud and seemed to grow even louder as awareness  
began returning.   
  
His vision was returning slowly, and something was irritating his eyes. He tried to shake his head  
to rid himself of this annoyance, but found himself too weak to move just yet. As the surrounding  
world began to come into focus, he could see the outlines of several figures, but they seemed too  
large to be Elves. Puzzling. But the images he saw were still fuzzy, and as he allowed his eyes to  
adjust - although the annoyance that had been bothering them was becoming more noticeable - he  
saw that the outlines were indeed not Elves, but horses. Several horses, in fact. And that sound,  
that pitter-patter must have been their hooves delicately clunking against the ground.   
  
A loud rumble grew in his ears, and vaguely he felt fear fill him. Was there also a tiger or wolf  
about? The horses, they should be running. The tiger would come and hunt them. They would be  
eaten. Run, he thought, run, noble creatures. Run as fast as your legs can carry you until your  
hard hooves do not touch the ground and you fly off to graze among the stars. Yes, you would  
like it there very much. The dark sky with all its glittering lights would be such a beautiful place to  
live.   
  
But in the sky, would there be grass for the horses to sustain themselves with? Would water  
cleanse their palates? Air to liven them? Or did it even matter, in that case. For surely the light of  
the stars would be all one needed to survive, wouldn't it?  
  
Ah, maybe then, he should go to be among the horses in the sky as well. Be away from the  
essential needs that grounded him to this mortal body. Away from the tigers and wolves and all  
other predators willing to make a meal out of him. And definitely away from that annoying feeling  
in his eyes!  
  
Naruhitu's body suddenly gave a great jerk, and blasting pain filled him. He groaned and tried to  
cover his head with his hands, but couldn't. His body would still not respond, except for shivers  
shaking it now and then that he was dimly aware stemmed from the chill in the air around him.  
Maybe it would be best to lie there, to let the years, decades, and centuries rush by while he lay  
there in apathetic ecstasy. The pain he felt now would gradually die away, along with all worries  
he might have.  
  
A shrill neigh sounded nearby, and he saw the dark shape of one black horse moving towards him.  
Lifting his head slightly and wincing at the flash of pain it gave him, the Elf gazed through half  
lidded eyes as a herd of horses moved by. One of them, what appeared to be the chief stallion,  
was looking at him through dark, keen eyes. The Elf tried to warn the horse of the tiger coming,  
but all he managed was a pained groan as he sank back down to the ground. There was a strange  
squelching sound, and he realized that he was lying in mud. And after this came the next  
realization that what had been bothering his eyes was raindrops, and that the rain hitting the  
ground had been the sound he had first heard. The roar of the beast, he knew, had been thunder.  
If he could have found enough strength, Naruhitu would have laughed out loud for his stupidity.  
As it was, he just lay there, quietly watching as the horse moved next to him.  
  
The great creature gazed down at him, the eyes shining with intelligence, wildness, and even what  
looked like a bit of pity. Lowering his great head, the horse nudged him. Naruhitu grimaced and  
groaned as old pains flared up. The horse's head immediately shot up at the sound, his eyes locked  
onto the Elf as his ears turned this way and that. Seeming to understand the helplessness of the  
being before him, the stallion snorted once, turning back to glance at the other members of his  
herd. They were all standing quite still, ears perked in curiosity as they watched and waited to see  
what their leader would do. Shaking his head a few times, the dark coated stallion turned back to  
the Elf, gazed down at the creature for a moment longer, then gracefully lowered himself down  
next to the raven haired Elf.   
  
The others of his herd seemed puzzled by this, a few of them snorting and others looking in every  
direction as if deciding whether to leave or to stay. Ultimately, however, the rest of the horses  
began moving over to the great stallion. The head female, a red mare only a little smaller than her  
mate, settled herself down on the other side of the shivering Elf, nuzzling him with her nose as if  
he were a newborn colt she was trying to urge into standing. A few more horses laid down  
nearby, feeling secure enough to be on the ground without any possible danger happening. Others  
of less courage remained standing, not wanting to be the ones struggling to rise if a predator  
came. But the stallion knew that no predators would come tonight. They would all be hiding from  
the thunder and lightning.   
  
Naruhitu closed his eyes, wanting to go back into blissful unconsciousness. As he began to drift  
off, he was aware of the mighty breaths the animals around him took, and he felt safe and warm.  
Something large and somewhat soft rested on his shoulder, and it took him a moment to discover  
that it was a horse head. Managing some semblance of a smile through his weakness, the Elf  
shivered once more and then slipped into a dreamless sleep.  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
  
The storm had arrived. Legolas felt a strange sense of foreboding that came along with it. But was  
it not true that danger lay ahead for him? It was practically unavoidable now. He had not found  
any opportunities for escape, and they were now very close to their destination, or so he  
perceived.   
  
He was once more lying inside the cage with the blanket draped over it. Though the cloth blocked  
out most of the rain, it did not stop all of the water from dripping through and onto his helpless  
form. At the moment, however, the water was not what was worrying him. There was no sound  
of the wheels rumbling below him, nor was there any sensation of movement. That meant that  
they had stopped once again.   
  
The cloth over his cage was pulled off, and all at once he was hit with a blast of cold air and  
water. The night seemed more chill than usual, and he knew it was not just because of the rain or  
his apprehension. The winter months would be arriving soon. This storm was but a taste of the  
cold that was to come.  
  
"Everyone halt!"  
  
That was the unmistakable voice of Dantar, one that Legolas had quickly grown to hate. He knew  
the man's presence would not be leaving him any time soon, for he sent out every indication that  
he would be spending time with the Elven prince during his captivity in this strange place. He  
moved his head so that he was looking out and in the direction of where the voice had came from.  
It was indeed Dantar who had spoken, and the man looked all the world like it was truly a nice  
spring day instead of a raging storm that, if it got any worse, would most likely cause serious  
problems for the caravan.   
  
Rain splattered in the mud, creating puddles that got up to ankle deep on the men. The horses  
around were very agitated, but had been specially bred for traveling even through storms. Some  
of the children, however, were growing sick, and that was probably the biggest problem that they  
were facing at the moment.  
  
Legolas watched as his cage was unlocked and pulled open with a creak. Strong hands reached  
inside and pulled him out to drop him inconsiderably onto the ground, and his sapphire eyes  
narrowed angrily at the men who had taken him out. They ignored him, instead looking to Dantar  
for further instructions.  
  
"We have arrived in Cavor." the red haired man announced. "I will be bringing the prisoner to his  
Lordship, along with Faron and Muktan. The rest of you, get the caravan through the gates and  
get the children into houses and the horses in stables. Worry last for your items. We have barely  
outrun the storm to arrive here, and it would do no good to take for granted this stroke of luck."  
  
Even as he spoke every person was moving into action, the men, women and children who were  
to be going through the gates riding, walking, or pulling along with their valuables. A loud  
trumpet sounded from inside the gates, and then they were opened by several guards wearing red  
and blue. The thankful people moved to get inside of this shelter as soon as possible.   
  
But the Elf found he would be taking a different way of entry when he was grabbed by a few men  
and picked off the ground. They did not even give him the choice to walk on his own this time,  
and simply carried him through the rain as they followed Dantar into a side entrance to the small,  
walled in town.  
  
Once inside, he was taken over to a large house, looking more like a miniature castle than  
anything. It was made of stone, and it appeared that the rain did little to stir the inhabitants of it.   
  
Legolas knew immediately that this was where he would be staying. And he felt slight fear clench  
his heart once again.  
  
The men carrying him stopped before the door, and Dantar pounded on the door with a great fist,  
blinking the rain out of his eyes as he looked around and waited for someone to answer. The door  
creaked open, and an old looking man peaked out from a dimly lit hall into the rain. His eyes  
squinted and he seemed to be searching for them, and when his eyes rested on Daintier they  
widened, giving him a very peaceful look. His clothes were that of a servant, and his manner  
towards the men suggested this, also.   
  
"Master Dantar!" the man greeted. "Lord Faregon has been anxiously awaiting your arrival."  
  
"As I am sure he has." Dantar replied with a smile.   
  
"Here, let me invite you in. Come in, get out of that dreadful weather! I tell you, this storm seems  
the worse we've had all year. This winter will not be easy. Oh no, I can feel it."  
  
As the man talked, Dantar and his men walked inside, carrying Legolas with them. When the  
servant offered to take their clothes, the red haired man had simply shook his head and said that it  
would be more prudent if they first delivered Lord Faregon's "package" to him. Two of the men  
carried Legolas now, through halls in which he looked all around, trying to take in as much  
information as he could. There appeared to be several rooms with guards in them, all clad in  
similar fashion as he had seen the guards at the front gates.   
  
Finally, the men came to a great wooden door, which Dantar knocked at using a great metal  
knocker that stood on the outside of it. It struck Legolas as slightly odd that the outside of the  
house should have no knocker, yet one of the inside rooms did.   
  
A seemingly cheerful voice from inside rang out then.   
  
"Daintier! Come in, come in!"  
  
The door was pulled open, revealing a large room with luxurious furnishings and many bright  
colors. On the walls a few banners depicting falcons with sharp talons and keen beaks hung, and  
one of the walls itself was painted over with a huge picture of one of the birds of prey, its huge  
talons extended and beak open in what seemed a loud cry. Legolas had long admired birds of this  
type, but seeing pictures of them on the walls of such a horrible place somehow made all interest  
for them become replaced by loathing.   
  
Sitting on a chair at the far end of the room, was a tall man with dark hair and long, flowing  
robes. His eyes were bright, and seemed to almost immediately focus on Legolas. The Elf held the  
man's gaze putting as much anger into the gaze as he could muster, wh ch was quite a lot. The  
man could not help but look away, and the Elven prince inwardly smiled. It was one small victory  
amongst his seemingly endless swarm of losses, but it was amazing how much satisfaction it  
caused.  
  
"Ah, I see you've brought me my new pet."  
  
The men holding Legolas moved forward, swinging the Elf as they did so. Bringing him before  
Faregon, they tossed the Elven prince down onto the ground. Stunned for a moment, Legolas  
watched as the red carpet beneath him slowly turned dark with water that dripped off his long  
golden locks of hair.   
  
When he looked up, he was met with a deceivingly well mannered smile as Faregon clasped his  
hands and gazed at him. The only thing the man showed that revealed his true nature was in his  
eyes, and that was undisguised lust that he now regarded Legolas with. Unable to do anything  
more than glare, Legolas continued to put heat and fury into his gaze, not that he needed to try  
very hard to do so.   
  
The man before him slowly stood from his chair then, gazing down at the bound captive.  
  
"Welcome to your new home, Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood." 


	4. Welcome to Hell

Title: Out of the Safety of the Wood  
  
Authors: No Tears, with a considerable amount of help from Dollrandir  
  
Summary: Making their way back into Mirkwood, Legolas and Naruhitu are attacked, and  
Legolas is taken captive while Naruhitu is left for death.  
  
Rating: R  
  
Warning: Violence/torture, bdsm, rape, and all that good stuff. I've decided to go further into this  
fic and explore the realm where Legolas is in a non-consensual Master/Slave relationship.  
Eventual slash! Though nothing really graphic will be placed in this version of the story, as I must  
heed the rating rules of FF.net.   
  
Disclaimer: We don't own anything made by Tolkien! Naruhitu, however, belongs to Dollrandir.  
All the other icky bad guys are mine!  
  
No Tears' Notes: Back again with another post! And also a warning that the next chapter may  
very well take longer to get out, since I will be leaving for two weeks to my grandmother's house,  
without any computer contact. I'll be leaving most of the next chapter in Dollrandir's hands  
(Legolas is going to be in for it, if she's doing the entire thing) and though she enjoys writing this  
story, she does have others that she needs to work on that she's going to get her throat ripped out  
for if she doesn't update. (Shameless plug: The Cycles of Life). Oh, and, we're nearing the  
chapters where I will be changing scenes so that they are not so graphic, but if you want to read  
the graphic versions, they will most likely be archived in the website I will have posted on my bio,   
because it won't show up on this for some reason.  
  
The website is called Legolas in Chains, and is a newly made fanfic and fanart archive where our  
favorite Elf is dominated by others. The first three chapters of "Out of the Safety..." are already  
up, but you have to wait until chapter 5 for the chapters to be any different from the ones here on  
FF.net. That's all I wanted to say...now on with the chapter!  
  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
  
Part 4: Welcome to Hell  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
The moment he had seen him, Faregon's lust had escalated so high that it took him an unusual  
amount of will to try and contain it. He knew that the evidence of it would be quite clear to the  
other men around him, but he could care less, for they too, were gazing at the Elf in a very much  
similar fashion.   
  
MY Elf, he reminded himself, a little dazed by the realization that this creature was now under his  
power.   
  
Truth be told, he had not expected Dantar to successfully catch one of the royal Elves, for if they  
were not being constantly protected by at least a battalion of their own kind, they were often  
extremely resourceful and awesome fighters. A group of his own men had tried capturing some of  
the common ones on their own, but when they waylaid the creatures they soon found the tables  
had turned when the Elves proved to be much swifter and stronger than they had imagined.  
Several of the men came back wounded, and two did not return at all. The Elves, however, were  
neither killed nor badly wounded, and had fled the men as soon as they safely had the chance to  
do so. Faregon had heard rumors of a man who could catch Elves, and had eagerly hired him once  
he found the rumors were true. Dantar had been all too happy to help when he found what the  
sum of the reward would be.  
  
And it had worked. It had actually worked. Before him now was an actual member of a royal  
family of Elves. The youngest prince of Mirkwood, if he remembered correctly.  
  
The Elf was currently glaring at him with eyes that were astonishingly bright. They had taken  
Faregon's breath away the moment he had seen them. The face was all too beautiful, and the man  
knew that the area concealed by the gag would be no different. And the body, oh, the body. Built  
with lean muscles and giving forth a feel of exhilarating hidden strength. Another thrill shot  
through Faregon as he thought of having that power under his control, of seeing bared and  
shaking muscles strain to break free of bonds, first in anger, and then eventually in fear. The man  
exhaled rather harshly as he saw this image in his mind, and he realized how badly he wanted to  
begin.   
  
Looking up at the men yet in the room with him and resting his eyes on the one who had caught  
the Elf, the man named Dantar. Although the man possessed large muscles and was more built  
than the slave before him, he was quite fair in his own dark way. Faregon himself was powerfully  
built as well, and he longed to test his own strength against the Elf's. He was not one to use  
guards to help him with dealing with slaves. If indeed, however, the Elf was as powerful as some  
of the rumors suggested, he knew it would be prudent to have at least some help. Dantar had  
explained to him earlier that he would help break and train the Elf if need be, and though Faregon  
had simply said that he would think about it, he knew that Dantar was already aware of what his  
decision was to be.   
  
"Oh, pardon me, where are my manners?" Lord Faregon said then, realizing that he had been  
gazing at the Elf for an extended period of time and yet not feeling any shame from the gazes  
directed at him. "I am Lord Faregon, Prince Legolas. I think I shall get straight to the point and  
say that if you expect to enjoy your stay here, it would be intelligent for you to address me as  
either Lord or Master." He smiled at the rebellion that came forth from the golden haired beauty's  
eyes at these words. "I am the master and you the slave. Any disobedience shown to my wishes is  
punishable, and you may do nothing without at first having my permission." His smile grew wider.  
"I understand that these terms seem unreasonable to you now, but I guarantee that after this first  
week you will be feeling much more compliant to my desires. It will be your only wish to please  
me."  
  
The Elf made a sort of protesting noise behind the gag, shaking his head once as his eyes gazed  
into Faregon's, bitter hatred brimming in their depths. Faregon held them for as long as he could,  
and once forced to look away he caught Dantar's eye. The black haired man's green eyes  
narrowed at the other and he nodded in approval.  
  
"Take my slave to my quarters. I need to finish a few items of importance, so make sure he is  
comfortable for the time being. When I return to my room I am going to have a little talk for him,  
and then training shall begin."  
  
Dantar's eyebrows seemed to rise in question, but he simply motioned for the two men who had  
followed him in to help him move the prince out. As he was grabbed, Legolas thrashed so  
furiously the men had to give him more than a few hard blows to get his hostility at least  
somewhat under control. The Elf's eyes stayed on Faregon as he was pulled up and dragged  
harshly out of the throne room.  
  
As the door to his working chambers closed, the Lord of Corvar's smile vanished as he turned to  
begin working on pressing matters that required his attention.   
  
Visible through a window, the storm outside raged harder than ever.  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
  
**********  
  
Lord Faregon's robes rustled softly as his long legs carried him down the halls towards his  
sleeping quarters at a fast walking pace. He had been distracted more than a few times from his  
work as he thought of what would be waiting for him in his rooms. It was exceptionally hard to  
concentrate on trade agreements when as filled with sexual frustration as he was at the time. He  
had kept on glancing impatiently up at the door, as if expecting something to happen, and when  
nothing would he'd sigh expressively and get back to his work.  
  
Now that he was finished, he could focus on matters involving his own personal pleasure.  
Goosebumps trailed on his body as he felt excitement rush up and down his back.  
  
Once coming to it, he placed his ear against a greatly furnished wooden door bearing an engraving  
of a falcon on it. Passing through the wood he could hear sounds of struggling and muffled  
grunting. His loins began to tighten, and a heated feeling surged through his body. Breathing in  
deeply so as to get his desires under control, Faregon placed a hand on the handle of the door and  
slowly pushed it open.  
  
The sight that greeted him first was the large, four post bed lavishly decorated with dark red silk  
blankets and soft pillows. Next to this bed sat a table, upon which were bottles of various  
expensive drinks. Another door stood across from him, one that led to his bathing chambers. But  
what caught his immediate attention upon observing these was his newly acquired slave, who was  
sitting in a large wooden chair. From the chair extended iron wrought restraints which fastened  
the prince's wrists to the arms of the chair and his ankles to the front two legs. There was also a  
larger metal cuff that locked firmly around the Elf's chest, holding him tightly to the back of the  
chair. There was still a piece of leather remaining over the captive's mouth, preventing speech.   
  
Eyes that seemed a mirror image of raging storm clouds glared at him, seeming to dig right into  
his mind and soul. The Elven prince was not moving at the moment, but the fine sheen of sweat  
that covered his forehead laid claim to the furious struggling that had taken place moments before.  
  
Laregon looked upon the creature with wonder and undisguised desire. The Elf would be so  
wonderful once properly trained. He knew that the training and resulting breaking would not be  
easy nor would it come quickly, but he was little bothered by this. If the Elf made him too  
frustrated, he could do whatever he liked to the doomed being.  
  
His lust grew and he felt the evidence of it against his breeches. Sneering, the man moved over to  
the bound Elven prince, towering over him in order to establish his dominance. The creature's  
eyes showed no sign of fear, and his only reaction was to tilt his head slightly and clench his  
bound hands. Leaning down, Faregon removed the gag from his slave's face and continued to  
scrutinize him. When no words ensued from the Elf's mouth, he moved over to the table nearby  
and inspected the several pitchers of wine that lay there. His back was to his captive, but the  
intensity of the Elven gaze made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He smiled to himself.  
  
"Legolas. I hear that is what they call you where you come from." he said, his rich baritone  
making a little echo in the once silent room. The Elf stayed sullenly silent. Turning around, the  
man looked pointedly at the golden haired being. "Is this true? I have heard it is, but I would want  
it to be confirmed by a more knowing source."  
  
The Elf's eyes were now unreadable, and no words from him seemed to be forthcoming. A flash  
of anger briefly ran through Faregon at his slave's insolence, and he stalked over to where the Elf  
was restrained. He grasped the prince's chin firmly before the Elf could react, and tilted his head  
up, causing the Elf to glare fiercely.   
  
"You will soon find that being silent when spoken to is a punishable offense."  
  
"Offense?" the Elf spoke finally, his bright eyes narrowing. "Who are you to speak of offenses  
when it is I who have been stolen from my kingdom and enslaved as such?"  
  
"'Twas no fault of mine that you were seen as the easiest to capture of the royal Elves." Faregon  
said, his dark eyebrows raising up. "Nor that you were stupid enough to be lured into that  
captivity."  
  
Legolas's eyes blazed and he jerked angrily against his bonds, but they held him securely. "Not  
even the swiftest of my kin would have been able to defend against an ambush of that great a  
number."  
  
"And that, my slave, is also no fault of mine." Faregon said with a smile, before moving back to  
his wine. He picked up a pitcher and began to pour its contents into a glass. "So, are you going to  
speak or would it be better if I simply kept you gagged all of the time?"  
  
Legolas fought back a growl in his throat at this. He did not wish to give in easily to his captor,  
and he knew that in the long run he would not. But he did not wish to be gagged again if it could  
be avoided with little difficulty. "I do not know what pleasure you hope to derive from my  
enslavement." he said, watching as the man lifted the glass to his lips and sipped the liquid within.  
  
"Elven slaves are a rarity, as I'm sure you've heard. Royal ones are virtually unheard of. I simply  
wished to have a precious jewel such as you for myself. Oh, there is great pleasure I can beget  
from this, my young prince. Very much." His eyes when he turned back to Legolas were darkened  
with desire.   
  
Legolas's brow furrowed for a moment, but he understood clearly what the man meant. Faregon  
moved back over to where the Elf sat and placed his hands on the prince's forearms, leaning  
forward until his face was inches away from his captive's. "I shall thoroughly enjoy this."   
  
With that the man crashed his lips into the Elf's in a powerful and dominating kiss. Legolas's eyes  
widened and he gave a muffled cry of outrage which only served to allow the man's tongue  
entrance into his mouth. The hinges of Legolas's open jaw were gripped with a powerful hand to  
prevent him from biting down upon the tongue that was exploring the contours of the Elf's  
mouth. He fought to throw the man off, but bound as he was the effort went unsuccessful. He  
tried hard to close his jaw, to bite down on the unwanted intruder, but the man's hand was strong  
and the Elf's eyes began filling with tears at the pain as he stubbornly refused to give up the fight.   
  
When Faregon finally drew away, Legolas was panting in fury, his eyes hard. The man watched  
the Elf try to be as subtle as possible while trying to work out the kinks in his abused jaw, to blink  
the tears that resulted from the previous sharp pain back. Raising a calloused hand to the prince's  
pale cheek, the man gently stroked the soft skin, loving the feel. Legolas hissed and pulled away,  
breaking the contact.  
  
"Do not touch me." he growled.  
  
Faregon's lip curled at these words. "You have no choice in these matters." he said firmly. "And  
in time you shall even grow to like it. That was but a taste of what is to come." Drawing back up  
and walking over to the table, the man downed the rest of his drink. He ran his tongue over his  
lips and gave Legolas a sly look. "However, I think this time I will heed you and do as you will. I  
have other plans for you these first few nights. A precaution, if you will, to ensure your  
obedience."  
  
"Do not count on it." the Elf replied, his eyes narrowing into slits.  
  
"I do more than count on it, slave." Faregon said. "I can nearly guarantee it."  
  
Grabbing a cloth laying on the table and at the same time reaching into a pouch hanging on his  
belt with his other hand, the man took out a pinch of something and smeared over the cloth. When  
he began heading towards Legolas, he could see the Elf brace himself for whatever was in store.  
Clever one, Faregon thought as he stood before the prince. But Faregon was in no mood for  
delays at the moment as he knew that he still needed to take care of a few more things before  
retiring for the night. Balling one hand into a fist, the man delivered a harsh blow to the Elf's  
unprotected abdomen, and as the wind rushed from the slighter being's form he quickly placed the  
cloth up to the mouth and nose. Before realizing it, Legolas inhaled sharply to regain his breath,  
his eyes widening when he realized that the cloth had some sort of drug on it. Whatever action the  
Elf might have taken then was too late, and Faregon smirked as the prince's eyes rolled up in his  
head and he slumped against the chair and the bonds holding him to it.  
  
Checking his slave's eyes to make sure that he was completely unconscious, Faregon placed the  
cloth onto the table and moved to have his hands thoroughly washed so none of the drug would  
remain on them. Once finished, he glanced once more at the unconscious prince, and then moved  
to the door. Opening it, he glanced out into the hallway and called to some of his more loyal  
servants. Several men and women hurried up to him at his voice, and he smiled pleasantly at their  
obedience. A couple of the females even smiled shyly at him.  
  
"The Elf is unconscious." he explained. "I have drugged him, so he will not be waking up for a  
few hours. I would like for you to bathe him now and to go through all the preparations I  
instructed you on in the past. Make sure everything is done efficiently."  
  
The servants all nodded, and without needing to be told to moved into the room, releasing the Elf  
and moving him to the bathing chambers. As much as Faregon wanted to see that lovely body  
bare and being washed, he knew that he would have his chance soon enough. And, being a man of  
great patience, he walked back towards his throne room, heading to see to another very important  
person in his life.  
**********  
**********  
**********  
  
**********  
  
A few hours later...  
  
**********  
**********  
**********  
**********  
  
Faregon was immensely pleased. The servants had done their job well, and he greatly looked  
forward to the days that were to come.   
  
His new slave lay naked before him on cold, hard ground. The room they were in was quite  
empty; one of the lower dungeons that Faregon had made into his home. The walls, floor, and  
ceiling were made of stone, and the only exit from the room was through a door that stood behind  
him. There was another door, but the way it led was not out. In fact, the door did not lead  
anywhere at all but a small space cut off by a dead end. A small window was made into the door,  
enabling anyone on the outside to slide open to peek at whatever was inside when it was closed.  
  
The man's eyes lingered on the small door, before coming back to rest on his new prize. The Elf  
was currently unconscious, though he showed vague signs of stirring. Faregon was mildly  
surprised that the drug's effects wore off so fast on this creature, but also pleased. It would be  
much sweeter if the slave was awake.  
  
A low, muffled moan came from the being before him then, and he smirked as he watched the  
slave shift slightly on the ground. Cloudy blue eyes still dumb from the drug blinked slowly, and  
then raised to meet the man's. Suddenly, the eyes widened in shock as realization abruptly flooded  
in their depths. Faregon watched with pleasure as Legolas tried to rise, not realizing yet that he  
was restrained, then collapsed heavily to the floor in a failed attempt.   
  
The slave then became aware of the gag in his mouth, one Faregon himself had prepared. It was a  
specially devised leather ball that forced the Elf's mouth open and was tightly tied behind his head  
with leather straps to prevent it from being expelled. The size of the ball was a little too big for  
the Elf, but Faregon knew that his slave would be able to survive some jaw pain.   
  
It soon became clear that Legolas did not enjoy the ball in his mouth at all, and the Elf began  
working his jaw, desperately trying to force it out. Faregon cherished the flash of panic that flew  
into the Elf's eyes, and the small muffled sound that made its way out from behind the gag. After  
a few moments Legolas seemed to somewhat resign himself to the fact that the gag was not going  
to move, no matter how hard he tried.   
  
Eyes still overlarge with alarm, the slave turned his head to gaze at the black leather manacles  
encasing his wrists and held together by a sturdy metal chain, then ran his eyes to his ankles which  
were held by another pair. The chain joining the leather shackles at his legs was longer than the  
ones which held his wrists, so that if he was careful he could rise and walk, but not run, and  
definitely not fight. The Elf's eyes were dark with anger as they turned back to Faregon, anger  
which masked any fear previously shown.   
  
Faregon's breath had been stolen at the Elf's stoic composure being briefly broken. He wanted to  
see more of that precious fear; the Elf's eyes seemed to light up and make him all the more  
beautiful when it was present.  
  
Knowing that he now had the Elf's full attention, Faregon finally spoke. "I take it you do not like  
the item filling your mouth." He enjoyed the responding glare he received from the helpless slave.  
"I thought not. I warn you now that it will not be the first of...unpleasantries, you will encounter  
while I am your owner, should you choose to be too spirited." The Elf's face was carefully devoid  
of any emotion now. "I am, however, thankful this time that you do not lack courage. That  
particular type of gag had to be tested on several other slaves before we could perfect it. One  
panicked too much, and in his fear stopped breathing completely, eventually suffocating to death.  
For a moment I was wondering if you were to do the same."  
  
Faregon studied the Elf for a minute, judging whether or not he would need help for this.  
Considering the way the Elf was glaring at him, he knew that any attempt he might make to  
handle the slave alone would be met with solid resistance. Feeling a small pang of displeasure, the  
man turned and gave a shout, calling in three guards. He noted that the Elf's eyes narrowed and  
that the lean body almost imperceptibly braced itself, but decided that he was going to make the  
fair creature wait a few moments before giving him cause to fight.  
  
When he had the Elf's full attention once more, Faregon spoke. "Now, I am aware that your  
rebellious spirit will prompt you to disobey while in my care, but I have an effective remedy for  
that."  
  
Faregon walked passed Legolas and behind him, making the creature turn on his stomach to keep  
the man in sight. Faregon made his way to the wall opposite the exit and stood next to the small  
door he had been examining earlier, opening it and giving the Elf a wolfish grin.   
  
"Ordinarily, this would be an isolation kennel for a fierce dog who it would not be safe when  
housed with the others, but I found it interesting that a lithe enough being can fit in there, too. Of  
course, *I* would never fit in there, no. I am far too big. On the other hand..." Faregon looked  
pointedly at Legolas, knowing that he fully understood what the man was saying.  
  
A small light of uneasiness flickered in the Elf's eyes. Faregon felt his lust rise at the sight of it,  
but restrained it from going to far. He had to remind himself that it would be a few days before he  
could have his pleasure with the Elf. But, Valar, he hoped he had the stamina to last that much!  
He wanted very badly to run his hand over the creature's soft, milky white skin, among other  
things.   
  
Faregon glanced at the three guards in the room and they each moved over to the slave, drawing  
him to his feet. One of them immediately drew a black hood over the Elf's head, tightening it  
around his neck as he gave a muffled cry and began to thrash violently in the hold of the guards.  
But restrained as he was, there was no way he could effectively fight them off. The tussle lasted  
until one of the guards delivered a stunning blow to the back of the Elf's head, putting him in a  
stilling daze for a moment.   
  
Faregon walked over, standing before the bound Elf as he raised his head once more. He could  
hear the slave's breath coming in panicky gasps through his nose, and moved his hands to rest on  
either side of the hooded head. He felt the Elf tense and draw back sharply, but tightened his hold,  
bringing his face so his mouth rested next to the Elf's covered ear.  
  
"You should know now who is in control here, fair prince. Obey my orders and you will be  
rewarded. Refuse, and you shall be punished. Either one is pleasurable for me, so it does not  
really matter, in my opinion, which you do. I can make your stay here even a little enjoyable, if  
you hearken to my wishes. But I can also make it a living hell." He felt the Elf shudder slightly.  
"And now, I give you a choice. If you will obey me, kneel as soon as the guards release you,  
pressing your forehead to the ground. If you do not do this...well, I think you understand very  
well what shall happen." He drew back from the hooded Elf, admiring how the black fabric  
contrasted with the pale skin. "It's your choice, Prince Legolas."  
  
The Elf seemed to stiffen at the sound of his name, and the guards holding him let go, backing  
away from him several paces even though it was clear that the captive was not capable of doing  
serious harm. Faregon watched the Elf, standing completely still. The fair being had managed to  
get his breathing under control now, even though it was clear in his stance the slight fear he was  
feeling. Time seemed to have somehow frozen within the room. Legolas seemed unsure of what  
to do, and Faregon was unsure himself of which he would prefer the slave to do. But, after a few  
moments of not moving, the man thought that the time for deciding was over.  
  
"Does that mean that you are not to obey?" he asked, making sure his meaning was clear in the  
tone of his voice.  
  
The Elf made no move, and Faregon gave a sigh, then motioned for the guards to take hold of the  
slave. But just as the three men neared, the Elf spun around and shouldered one of them to the  
ground. Angrily, the other two harshly grabbed the Elf, wrenching him back and holding him as  
well as they could as the third guard raised himself from the floor to aid them. The Elf was  
desperately struggling, trying to pull free and prevent this from happening. It was an ultimately  
futile attempt, and with their combined strength, the guards hauled the slave over to the kennel.  
Forcing him down onto his knees, they pushed him roughly into the cramped interior of the  
kennel, closing the door quickly and locking it once he was inside.  
  
Faregon moved over to the door, sliding open the small window and looking inside at his slave.  
He could hear the Elf nearly hyperventilating in his tiny confinement, which caused him to sit with  
his knees drawn up nearly to his chin. The man smiled, noticing how the Elf trembled.  
  
"Welcome to hell." Faregon said, shutting the window and leaving Legolas in darkness. 


	5. Piece by Piece

Title: Out of the Safety of the Wood  
  
  
  
Authors: No Tears, with a considerable amount of help from Dollrandir  
  
  
  
  
  
Summary: Making their way back into Mirkwood, Legolas and Naruhitu are attacked, and  
  
Legolas is taken captive while Naruhitu is left for death.  
  
  
  
Rating: R  
  
  
  
Warning: Violence/torture, bdsm, rape, and all that good stuff. I've decided to go further into this  
  
fic and explore the realm where Legolas is in a non-consensual Master/Slave relationship.  
  
Eventual slash! Though nothing really graphic will be placed in this version of the story, as I must  
  
heed the rating rules of FF.net.   
  
  
  
Disclaimer: We don't own anything made by Tolkien! Naruhitu, however, belongs to Dollrandir.  
  
All the other icky bad guys are mine!  
  
  
  
No Tears' Notes: Numerous apologies for the delay! But school is out now for Dollrandir and I,  
  
and so we have much more time to work on this story! And, we made another mistake. It seems  
  
that the graphic parts are going to be delayed for another couple of chapters...because we write  
  
through our characters and only when they believe it is time, will it be time. Which should be  
  
somewhere in the next two chapters, if not sooner. Depends on how the characters write  
  
themselves. All right, on with the next chapter!  
  
**WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE FORMAT OF THIS CHAPTER. FOR SOME REASON, WE  
  
CANNOT FIND OUT WHY SOME PARAGRAPHS ARE SEPARATE AND OTHERS ARE  
  
NOT. WE WILL TRY AND FIND THE ANSWER TO THIS PROBLEM AS SOON AS WE  
  
CAN!!**  
  
  
  
Oh, and thoughts are now depicted between ~these.~   
  
**********  
  
**********  
  
**********  
  
**********  
  
**********  
  
Part 5: Piece by Piece  
  
**********  
  
**********  
  
**********  
  
**********  
  
**********  
  
Naruhitu awoke to the feeling of tugging at his hair. He let out a soft groan, mostly from the  
  
weariness of waking. It felt like he had slept for days. Suddenly he remembered what had  
  
occurred to lead him here, and would have bolted himself upright had he the energy. He was not  
  
in as much pain as he had been, and he wondered just how long his body had been in the state of  
  
Elven healing sleep.  
  
  
  
The small jerking movement he made served to startle whatever had been pulling at his hair, and  
  
he could hear the soft patter of tiny feet as whatever it was began to chatter angrily at him. He  
  
guessed it was a squirrel of some sort, and this was confirmed when a small furry creature with a  
  
long bushy tail began to take shape in his line of vision. The little rodent had taken to the safety of  
  
the trees and now seemed to be giving him a firm reprimanding for startling it.  
  
  
  
His eyes clearing, the raven haired Elf began to observe his surroundings. He was not in the  
  
clearing where the men had left him, but somewhere in a copse of trees. There was a dying fire  
  
nearby, and next to it lay a cloth of some sort, upon which was what looked like cooked nuts and  
  
other plant-like items. The scent of food reached his nose, and he was then aware of how hungry  
  
he was. As his eyes continued to scan the area, he caught sight of something moving in the  
  
woods.   
  
  
  
Fear clenched his heart and he tensed up. Who had found him? Were they friend or foe? It was  
  
then he realized that he was no longer bound, and would be free to run should he wish it. But he  
  
doubted that he would be able to escape any captor in his condition, and so he could only wait in  
  
silent apprehension as the figure drew closer. The squirrel that previously had been squeaking  
  
non-stop was now deathly silent.  
  
  
  
Finally, the being stepped into clear view, and Naruhitu felt relief soar when he recognized it as  
  
another Elf. Whoever it was, was softly singing, and through the voice the raven haired Elf could  
  
discern it as a male. Most everything else was hidden from him, as the stranger was carefully  
  
concealed in a dark green cloak that matched the leaves of the trees in the forest. Naruhitu began  
  
to shift subconsciously on the ground and then winced when he realized his movements would be  
  
heard by the other Elf and signal him to his consciousness. Even though it was another Elf that did  
  
not mean Naruhitu did not need to be wary.   
  
  
  
As predicted, the cloaked Elf's head turned towards the dark haired Elf. Naruhitu froze, his blue  
  
eyes wide as they were met with another pair of fierce hazel. Wavy brown hair tinged with gold  
  
flowed freely down the stranger's face, the length reaching to where Naruhitu guessed was the  
  
small of the Elf's back. After a few seconds the green-brown eyes softened, and the Elf resumed  
  
to walk around the camp to the spot where the nuts and plants lay.  
  
  
  
The squirrel that had been cursing at Naruhitu before gave a small squeak of delight and quickly  
  
scurried down from its perch on the tree. With effortless ease it climbed up the back of the  
  
hooded newcomer and began squeaking animatedly into his ear. A soft chuckle sounded from the  
  
brown haired Elf.   
  
  
  
"Aren't you quite the impatient one." he stated.  
  
Naruhitu watched as the newcomer kneeled down next to the pile of nuts and spoke once more to  
  
the squirrel. "All right, you may choose whichever one you'd like. But I warn you, these are  
  
cooked."   
  
The squirrel did not seem to mind, and with a final squeak jumped down and all but disappeared  
  
into the pile of nuts as it searched for the perfect one to consume. The brown haired Elf watched  
  
the squirrel's antics with amusement, reaching out and gently pinching the exposed bushy tail. The  
  
little creature gave a squeak from where it stood underneath the pile, but soon resumed its search.  
  
Naruhitu could not help but smile at the scene.   
  
"How are you feeling?"   
  
The question caught Naruhitu off-guard, being the first time the other Elf had spoken directly to  
  
him since arriving. The young Elf looked at the other uncertainly, his mind frantically trying to  
  
remember how to speak. Finally he managed a reply.  
  
  
  
"I-" Naruhitu winced at his dry, raspy voice and swallowed before trying again. "I feel better than  
  
I did before waking."   
  
The strange Elf did not look at him as he spoke. "I found you in a clearing." he said, answering  
  
one of Naruhitu's unspoken questions. "You were badly injured. I tended to you as best I could,  
  
but your own body did a greater job healing itself."  
  
Naruhitu's brow furrowed and he dropped his gaze to the ground as he tried to force his mind to  
  
work. After a moment he glanced back up at the other Elf, who had removed the hood of his  
  
cloak and was now currently sitting back on his heels as he studied the other.   
  
The squirrel finally found the nut it wanted, and pulled its way out of the pile. Holding the nut up  
  
to its face, it took one gigantic bite out of the nut. The strange Elf let out a sound of surprise.  
  
"Steady yourself, little one!" he admonished the small creature. "If you eat the entire nut, then  
  
naught shall be left for you to keep yourself well through the winter!"  
  
The squirrel glanced quizzically up at the brown haired Elf, before letting out a small squeak and  
  
began to take tiny bites of the nut, steadily stuffing the food into its cheeks piece by piece.   
  
  
  
"There you go," the other Elf said, nodding in approval. "Just be patient."   
  
As Naruhitu watched the squirrel slowly eat the rest of the nut, he realized that the air around him  
  
was cold. The squirrel was going to need to store food for the months it snowed, though it looked  
  
as if it would be able to get all the sustenance it needed from this strange Elf. After it finished the  
  
nut its cheeks were slightly plump from the filling. The squirrel glanced at the brown haired Elf  
  
one last time, before turning and scurrying away like a galloping horse.  
  
Naruhitu's eyes widened as yet another memory made its presence known. "Horses!" he gasped  
  
suddenly.   
  
The other Elf gave him a puzzled look and tilted his head. "Pardon?"  
  
Naruhitu blushed slightly before answering. "Horses. I remember seeing horses with me."   
  
The strange Elf continued to stare at him for a moment, before throwing his head back and letting  
  
out a light laugh that was echoed in the trees. "Horses! Of course...how could I forget? It was  
  
how I found you in the first place."   
  
"I remember a stallion with a dark coat."  
  
"Aye, that was Maethor. He is the leader of the herd." A small smile appeared on the strange Elf's  
  
face. "It was a good thing he found you when he did."  
  
"Where are we now?"   
  
"Near the eastern borders of Mirkwood. Do you believe yourself to be recovered enough to make  
  
it back to your home?"   
  
The younger Elf didn't bother asking how the other knew he was from Mirkwood; it was clear on  
  
the garb he wore.  
  
  
  
Naruhitu braced himself and made an attempt to rise. His limbs quaked under the strain, but he  
  
managed to get himself into a sitting position. It did, however, take more effort than he had  
  
anticipated.   
  
"I'll need to rest for a while longer if I am to make the journey." the young Elf answered  
  
truthfully with a grin. "Oh, and, my name is Naruhitu." he added, feeling it safe enough to give his  
  
true name to this Elf.  
  
At this, an almost imperceptible light of sorrow entered the other Elf's eyes, before he smiled  
  
once more. "I am known as Rainraw." he said softly, placing his hand to the right side of his chest  
  
in a polite greeting. "Mayhap, while you are regaining your strength, you will be able to tell me  
  
the tale of how it is you ended up in such condition. I gather however you did, it was not  
  
pleasant."  
  
Naruhitu's eyes widened, his mind screaming at him for even momentarily forgetting what had  
  
happened to Legolas. He struggled to his feet, and would have fallen because of his unresponsive  
  
limbs if it weren't for Rainraw hurrying to his side to support him.  
  
"Calm yourself, Elfling!" the brown haired Elf gasped as Naruhitu tried to wrench from his grasp.  
  
"Legolas!" Naruhitu cried. "I have to get to the king! I must speak with him as soon as possible! I  
  
have to..." Sobs choked him and he hung limply in the older Elf's arms.  
  
"What is it you know that is so urgent to alert the king of?" Rainraw asked, concern etched in his  
  
large, hazel eyes as he gently placed the weak Elf onto the ground.  
  
Naruhitu was beyond responding, his grief having taken over. He curled up on the forest floor,  
  
burying his face in his arms as sobs wracked him. Legolas had been taken by men, to be used for  
  
whatever evil purposes they wished of him. That was, if the prince was still alive.  
  
*********  
  
*********  
  
*********  
  
*********  
  
*********   
  
Legolas moaned miserably, a sound that was quickly swallowed up by the walls surrounding him.  
  
How long it had been since he had been placed in this horrible imprisonment, he knew not. It was  
  
far too long for his liking, and he could no longer control the occasional panic attacks resulting  
  
from claustrophobia. Sweat continued to break out on his forehead, sticking the hood to his face.  
  
His muscles were extremely cramped, for even though he was lithe, his body was not used to  
  
withstanding pressure on all sides as such.   
  
  
  
The first long moments of being placed in here he had attempted to move to ease the discomfort.  
  
It had only heightened his sense of the walls around him and gave him the impression that they  
  
were closing in on him. He had panicked then, giving a scream that was effectively suppressed by  
  
the large gag in his mouth. Legolas had used his legs to push against the wall behind him with his  
  
back, as if trying to move the very stone of the walls themselves to give him more room. This had  
  
proved useless, and he had stopped moving, making whimpering sounds that would go unheard.  
  
How much longer was he to be kept in here? Had they forgotten about him and left him to die?  
  
The thoughts made him whimper again, and he tried to shift in the cramped area once more. His  
  
arms were still bound behind him, crushed between his back and the wall. At least, he believed  
  
they were. They had long since lost all feeling.  
  
He was also terribly thirsty, having lost much of what little water he consumed through  
  
perspiration. His mouth and throat were dry around the ball gag, and his tongue felt swollen. His  
  
jaws were also aching fiercely from being forced open for so long. Legolas had been afraid that if  
  
he went into Elven sleep to escape the pain, that he wouldn't wake up again. He had to focus on  
  
breathing. Unfortunately, even this was restrained because of the hood over his head. Each time  
  
he would inhale, the fabric would press against his nose, preventing him from taking too great a  
  
breath.   
  
He once more made the futile effort to shift himself into a more comfortable position. His eyes  
  
began to well up with tears of frustration and fear, and he shut his eyes tightly behind the hood.  
  
  
  
  
  
That was when he heard it.  
  
Voices!   
  
Since the time he'd been imprisoned down here, not once had he been able to detect any sound of  
  
indication that others were around. That had been the final factor in his misery, that had sent the  
  
poor prince over the edge.  
  
Now was his first sign since coming down here of other life besides himself, and his heart flared in  
  
hope as he held his breath. If they left him down here any longer, he was sure he'd succumb  
  
completely to madness.  
  
Footsteps approached, and the sound of sliding could be heard. He felt a waft of cool air hit his  
  
body, and nearly wept with relief.  
  
  
  
"My young prince, are you ready to be released?" It was the voice of Faregon. Under any other  
  
circumstances, he would have reacted with defiance.  
  
But not now. He felt his rebellious spirit frantically struggle to break free, but it was ultimately  
  
overcome by his fear of spending any more time in the hellish kennel. The Elf could only whimper  
  
in response, being restrained of all other communication. He just wanted to be taken out of this  
  
Valar forsaken place, to be able to breathe freely and stretch tired and cramped muscles. And his  
  
thirst seemed to be growing by the minute.   
  
It happened faster than he'd expected. The pressure of the wall on his left side abruptly vanished,  
  
and he fell onto his side. He had not the strength to move; his limbs needed circulation to return  
  
before he could even try. He found that the cold stone beneath him was soothing against his  
  
burning skin.   
  
Then hands were grabbing at him, pulling him up so he was kneeling. His legs protested, but he  
  
trembled with weakness and had no energy to fight the men. The hood on his head was removed,  
  
allowing Legolas's eyes to once more see in something other than pitch black. Soon after the gag  
  
was loosened from his mouth. After it was pulled out, he found that trying to close his jaw caused  
  
him too much pain; the joints had been badly strained.  
  
As his eyes focused, the prince could see the figure of Faregon standing over him, a triumphant  
  
smirk. The man kneeled before him, and reached out to touch his face. Much to his shame,  
  
Legolas found himself flinching back from the fingers before he stopped himself. Faregon's hands  
  
touched his still open mouth and then, to the Elf's surprise, began massaging the pained joints of  
  
his jaw.  
  
  
  
"How is my little Elf faring?" the man asked. "It seems you did not like the three days you spent  
  
in the kennel."  
  
~Three days?!?!~ Legolas managed to furrow his brow in incredulity as he gazed at the man.  
  
Faregon was, however, correct in that the Elf had no pleasure whatsoever in being kept in that  
  
cramped space.  
  
The man continued to soothe the joints of Legolas's jaw, and eventually the Elf found he could  
  
close his mouth again. Faregon tussled the prince's hair before standing once more.  
  
"Take the prince to his new living quarters and have the servants give him a proper bathing." the  
  
man ordered the guards. "Do not feed him. Do not water him."  
  
The Elf only stared up at Faregon, as if not understanding. He was pulled up by the arms, and  
  
gave a startled cry as his legs crumpled beneath him. Circulation was beginning to return, and  
  
with it the terrible pain that gave him the distinct feeling of being jabbed with thousands of  
  
needles. Legolas's breath caught, and he shut his eyes as he waited impatiently for it to be over.  
  
When he found the strength to at least support himself with the aid of the men, they began to lead  
  
him away, holding him firmly up even as he stumbled.   
  
Faregon watched the men take his new, prized slave away. He turned to the kennel and shut it  
  
once more. The man knew that the prince's seeming submission at the moment was not to last.  
  
Still, Faregon knew he'd started with the correct steps. Legolas was on his way to becoming a  
  
well trained slave, just like the rest of them. When the Elf would recover enough, he'd continue  
  
with the training. Faregon smirked. This time, it would be more hands on. 


	6. Further Despair

Title: Out of the Safety of the Wood  


  


Authors: No Tears, with a considerable amount of help from Dollrandir  
  
  
Summary: Making their way back into Mirkwood, Legolas and Naruhitu are attacked, and  
  
Legolas is taken captive while Naruhitu is left for death.

  
  


Rating: R

  
  


Warning: Violence/torture, bdsm, rape, and all that good stuff. I've decided to go further into this  
  
fic and explore the realm where Legolas is in a non-consensual Master/Slave relationship.  
  
Eventual slash! Though nothing really graphic will be placed in this version of the story, as I must  
  
heed the rating rules of FF.net. 

  
  


Disclaimer: We don't own anything made by Tolkien! Naruhitu, however, belongs to Dollrandir.  
  
All the other icky bad guys are mine!  


No Tears' Notes: And here's – astonishingly enough – a new chapter! I have no other messages except that thoughts are now in _italics._ I will fix the previous chapters when I find the time. I'm also afraid this chapter ends in a bit of a cliffhanger...but at least I got it up!

  
  


Part 6: Further Despair

  


Legolas remained still as he was scrubbed by the servants, his eyes distant as he tried to imagine himself to be anywhere but here. Which was considerably difficult, considering the intense thirst he was feeling coupled with the shackles whose short chain was connected to a ring that forced him to kneel and kept his hands securely before him. That, and also the guards whose mocking laughter and lustful glances which caused shudders of fury to run through his body. 

  


Letting out a slow and shaky breath through his mouth, Legolas clenched his hands into fists and closed his eyes. The scent of the water was nearly overpowering, and his throat seemed to become even more dry. He had been threatened by one of the guards that if he even dared to try and drink it he would be gagged. So all he could do to avoid punishment was sit there and try to suppress the furious snarls working their way up his throat at the laughter he was receiving for his debasement. 

  


Soft cloths wet with warm water ran up and down his back. One of the servants moved around the bath and began to wipe the cloth across his face. Legolas knew that the people cleaning him were as much prisoners as he, that they had no choice but to do their lord's bidding. Despite this, he could not hold back the glare that shot out at the woman cleaning his face. He caught himself and softened his gaze, but not before she saw the anger in his eyes. The woman froze in fear, then after a moment backed up and hurried out of the hall. The other servants paused in their cleaning, and Legolas furiously berated himself for his rash action. 

  


The feelings of hopelessness and fear were gnawing sharply at his heart after having spent time in the kennel. He could not deny it to himself and he did not try to. But he would not simply give in to these people, and so he used as much of the fear as possible to fuel his rage and hate. The anger overrode sorrow and fear, giving him reason to continue fighting. 

  


Suddenly, a hand was grasping a handful of his golden hair, and then he was being forced to look up into the dark eyes of the one who had forced him into this degrading situation.

  


"Well, well, well!" Dantar's voice made Legolas grit his teeth in vexation. "We meet again, Elfling! And it looks like your stirring up trouble already among the other servants. You'd best start to behave yourself, slave."

  


"I am no slave." Legolas spat. 

  


"Ah, but you are." the red haired man said. "Not a willing one, at least, not now. That too, shall change eventually."

  


Legolas's eyes sparked with ferocity, and he could barely contain himself from attempting to lunge at the man. "I would rather die." 

  


Dantar's eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Is that so?" he asked. "Well, I have news for you, Elfling." He bent so that his face was mere inches from Legolas's, using his free hand to grab the Elf's chin in a firm grip. "If you stay defiant, what you shall go through _will_, in fact, be worse than death. I can guarantee it."

  


Legolas believed every word of it, but he would not surrender himself to the other man's gaze. He was not beaten yet, and he was wanted as a slave and not dead. His father would dispatch Elves to search for him eventually. In the mean time, he would do everything he could to find a way to escape. He would not give up on hope.

  


'A plague on you.' Legolas hissed in Sindarin. 'May your death be long and painful and your rotting carcass become carrion for the worms and crows.'

  


It was clear that Dantar hadn't the slightest clue of what Legolas had just said, but judging from the tone he knew it was either an insult or a threat. His ire rising, he gave the Elf's hair a particularly painful jerk, before releasing it and giving the prisoner a violent backhand that sent Legolas falling awkwardly onto his back. Water rushed over his face and he accidentally inhaled some, which caused him to go into a coughing fit as he struggled to sit himself up again. He wiped the water and hair back from his eyes after his coughing subsided and glared at Dantar, who returned the expression in kind. 

  


The taste of water in Legolas's mouth immediately caught his attention and he felt his body cry out for more of the precious liquid. Using a great deal of willpower, Legolas restrained his urge to drink and continued to glare at Dantar.

  


"Do not cross me, slave. I was not lying before when I told you I know how to make an Elf scream." A smirk formed over the man's face. "Speaking of which, I heard you were recently acquainted with the kennel." He chuckled a bit at the flash of consternation in the young prince's eyes at his words. "Yes, as you've probably guessed now, it was because of I that you were placed there. Do you know how I came up with the amount of time to keep you imprisoned? It was one day for each action of rebellion you commenced before your master. One day for denying him in his throne room. One day for speaking defiantly to him in his chambers. And one day for resisting him when he kissed you. Faregon is to alert me of any defiance you give, and you will be justly punished for it."

  


"Justly?" Legolas hissed bitterly.

  


"Yes," Dantar insisted, "justly. You are a slave now by law. All of the forms have been signed, all of the right people informed. Even if you do manage to escape – unlikely – you would be searched out immediately and found."

  


"No laws of Elves are these!" the prince said, his mind reeling with the information. "You cannot keep me here!" He jerked once against the chains holding him down.

  


"Ah ah." Dantar admonished, holding up his hand. "Two hours in the kennel for that show of disrespect."

  


Legolas couldn't help his jaw dropping for a second as his eyes filled with fear at the thought of being returned to that dark place. "You are mad." the prince grated, now shaking with rage.

  


"Four hours." Dantar said, folding his arms as he began to circle Legolas. "By all means, continue with this. Personally, I am curious to see how long you can keep up your strength without food. Without water." Now behind the prince, the man bent down to whisper into one pointed ear. "Without anything at all but the crushing walls and choking silence around you."

  


Legolas let out an involuntary shudder as the feeling of being trapped jumped clear into his mind with the words. He did not think he could go through with the ordeal of being in the kennel for that long again. And Dantar was right – his thirst was escalating and it would not be long before his dehydrated body would begin to heighten its cries for replenishment until he would be unable to do anything to ignore it. 

  


"I trust you are done?" Dantar asked, his eyes hard when he came to stand before Legolas once more. The prince looked up at the man, the gaze still holding defiance and anger but with an underlying tone of defeat. This side of Dantar was dangerous, and he realized he would have to act with utmost wariness around the man. Averting his gaze to the water below him, the Elf slowly nodded once.

  


"Very well," the man continued. He looked to the guards nearby. "Prepare the slave for another period of confinement in the kennel."

  


Legolas's eyes widened and shot back up to Dantar, who smiled indifferently. "One thing you must learn, slave, is that I withdraw no promise of punishment. If I say it shall be done, it will be done."

  


_No... _Legolas frantically looked about at the four men approaching him, thrashing as they laid hands upon his upper body. Someone grabbed his jaw and attempted to pry it open at the hinges just as he saw the cruel ball gag dangled before his face. He clenched his jaw and fought harder, felt hands grasping his hair and shoulders harshly to keep a hold on his slippery wet body. The fingers on his jaw increased their pressure relentlessly, until he felt tears welling up in his eyes from the pain. 

  


Over the sounds of the struggle he heard Dantar call out, "Six hours."

  


As soon as the words reached Legolas he froze, his heart hammering with adrenaline and desperate fear. His eyes, large and blue, looked to Dantar, dismay and shock filling their depths.

  


The man's expression was absolutely apathetic. "How much longer do you wish for?"

  


Choking back a sob, the prince shut his eyes tightly, allowing them to force the gag in his mouth and secure it in place. His jaw gave a spasm of pain as the leather ball forced it wide, and Legolas shut his eyes even tighter at the sensation.

  


This could not be happening. It was simply a nightmare and he was going to wake up soon and find himself in his safe, warm bed in Mirkwood. 

  


"Now the hood."

  


_Please, no... _Legolas opened his eyes to gaze helplessly at the black hood being brought forth. Fearful of being sentenced to even more hours, the prince only weakly tossed his head to the side as they moved to force it over him. Darkness descended and he choked back a whimper as he felt someone fumbling with it and then a moment later the cloth tightened against his neck. The fabric clung to his wet face, making it harder to breathe and he could already feel claustrophobia set in. 

  


Hands were everywhere on him, holding his body down and restraining his arms with hurting hands as they unlocked his wrists from their bonds. Not a moment later his arms were wrenched around and behind his body and locked into place. His shoulders ached in protest as they were made to resume the position they had taken up for such a long period of time. A pair of hands wrapped around each of his arms and hauled his dripping body out of the tub, pulling him out of it and forcing him along as his heart pounded in growing dread.

  


Behind him, he heard Dantar's voice. "I shall see you in some hours, dear slave. Enjoy the darkness."

  


He was brought along several corridors, and then into a chill room which he could feel immediately was the one which held the kennel. He renewed his desperate struggles as he felt himself pushed further into the room, but dehydration made him weaker than usual. Strong hands on his shoulders pressed him to his knees, and he felt bonds clamp over his ankles once more. Someone grabbed the back of his neck and held his head down while others held his bound arms and pushed his torso towards the kennel. 

  


Dread coursed through him when he realized they meant to push him in there in that hunched position. He would be immobile and bent over for half a day, with nothing to ease his cramped muscles or back, no room to stretch. The thought spurred him to thrash once more, to at least try to get them to put him into a more comfortable position. His attempts were fruitless, as they always were. Bound and helpless, the prince was unwillingly forced inside to face his punishment. He felt his shoulder pressed into one side of the kennel and as absolute fear overtook him he gave a single desperate wail before the door was slammed on his other side.

  
  


********

  


"Father!" 

  


Faregon glanced up from a trade agreement he had been going over to see his young daughter rushing over to his side, excitement glittering in her green eyes. As soon as she reached him she launched herself up so she was sitting on his legs and facing him.

  


Faregon laughed at her show of youthful energy. "Hello, Thaerwyn!" He placed his large hand on her delicate shoulders, holding her back and looking over her. 

  


She was clad in a silk blue dress and her black hair was bound up by ties that bore blue gems in them. A necklace of silver hung from her pale neck, a large sapphire coming to rest against her collarbone. She was eight years old, and the life and vigor of her youthfulness was clearly reflected in her face.

  


"My beautiful daughter." Faregon murmured, pulling the child into an embrace that she responded to in kind. "Where is your sister?" he asked as he pulled her back to look at her once more.

  


A scowl came over the young one's face at this, and she raised her chin. "She almost got into the potions again today in the healer's room. Nadraen is angry with her."

  


Faregon's eyebrows rose at this information. Kaswyn, his youngest daughter, was only a little more than a year old and was prone to escape the clutches of her caretakers and go to explore and get into messes, as are many children at that age. _Something may happen to her one of these days._he thought. _She just might get hold of what she's after. _

  


"And where is she now?" Faregon asked, repeating his question.

  


"Sleeping." Thaerwyn said simply. "She got worn out from running from the ninnies."

  


"Nannies, sweetheart." Faregon corrected, although the former word may have very well described that bunch of women just as well. He could not fathom how they managed to keep losing Kaswyn.

  


"And what have_ you_ been doing?" Faregon asked then, grinning at Thaerwyn as she bounced a little in his lap.

  


Directing her eyes towards the ceiling, the young girl replied slowly. "Sitting in my room and painting like a good girl." It was a rehearsed answer, and one she had used many times. Then she lowered her voice an octave and continued in a snotty fashion, "Because it's dreadfully stormy outside and if I go to the stables I might get my dress dirty or catch cold."

  


"Now, now." Faregon chuckled, pulling her so her face was closer to his. "I don't really sound like that, do I?"

  


She nodded enthusiastically, a wide grin on her face. "You_ like_ sounding like that, father." she said.

  


"Do I, now?" A mischievous glint appeared in Faregon's eyes and he pressed his nose against hers. "And do you know what else I like to do?"

  


Thaerwyn was giggling softly now. "What?"

  


"I like to...tickle!" And with that he immediately began running the tips of his fingers all over his daughter's body until she was shrieking with laughter and writhing all over the place. Faregon was laughing heartily as he continued his relentless attack until a cleared throat interrupted them.

  


Looking up, the man saw Dantar standing at the entrance to the room, his arms folded. "Lord Faregon, I've come to inform you that I've had the Elf placed in the kennel again."

  


Thaerwyn glanced at the other man, then turned back to her father with curious eyes. "An Elf?" she asked, eyes full of inquiry.

  


Faregon's face darkened momentarily as he stared at Dantar, then softened when he turned back to his daughter. "Thaerwyn, would you please go check on your sister while I have a talk with Dantar?"

  


The girl nodded slowly, a sad light entering her eyes as she slid off of his lap and then hurried out of the room, gazing warily at Dantar as she exited. Once he was sure his daughter was well out of hearing range, Faregon stood and turned to the slave trader.

  


"What were you thinking?!" he hissed, advancing on the other man.

  


"What do–"

  


"Do not ask me that!" Faregon interrupted. "You will speak nothing of the Elf around my daughters. Nothing! They do not need to know what activities of which their father partakes in his absence."

  


"You are not going to tell them?" Dantar asked.

  


"The Elf is to be kept secret from them. If they found out that I am keeping him then they will grow curious and want to find out more about the creature. I do not want to risk my children getting near that beast!"

  


"Beast?" Dantar asked, his eyebrows rising in surprise at such a description of the elven prince.

  


"He may be the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, Dantar, but I know that if given the opportunity he would not hesitate to harm my daughters. He is dangerous."

  


"I see." the slave trader murmured. "I understand. My apologies, Lord Faregon."

  


"Just as long as you remember next time. Now, what were you saying?"

  


"The Elf is in the kennel." Dantar said, unfolding his arms.

  


"So soon?" Faregon asked, feeling a little disappointed but not outwardly showing it.

  


"It will leave more of a lasting impression on him if done this way. Elves are not like humans, and in this case that is both good and an inconvenience. If I had left him to recover from the time spent in the kennel, his fear of it might diminish. But putting him in it when the terror of his past experience is clear in his mind will make him remember it well."

  


"Will he be broken after this?" Faregon asked.

  


"No." Dantar said with a shake of his head. "It may seem so for perhaps more than an hour after his release. But even though his fear of the kennel is going to surely be great, his spirit will not have been fully broken. I know you are looking forward to training him yourself."

  


"Aye." Faregon smirked. "That is well, then." He turned back to the table and moved over to sit in the chair once more, picking up the momentarily forgotten trade agreement. "Has he been fed?"

  


"No." the other man replied. "But Elves can go very long without food. It is the thirst I am hoping will wear him down. He appears to be nearing the desired dehydration level. His skin was pale and he is getting weaker. But I do not recommend ever fully replenishing him until he is more well trained."

  


"So, do you believe he'll be ready for training after this time spent in confinement?"

  


"After the six hours I sentenced him to?" Dantar smirked. "Oh yes, you may train him then."

  


***********

For the longest time, an eternity it seemed, darkness and pain were Legolas's world. His entire body never ceased to tremble from the weariness and aching that plagued them from his painful position. He could feel the cold stone of the ceiling of the kennel pressing down upon him, and his neck muscles were wracked with spasms from his head being forced down. His jaw bone felt like it was on fire from being stretched for so long, and his throat was so dry that he could not swallow. He whimpered hopelessly in between intakes of breath, trying to keep his focus on gathering air into his lungs. His body wanted nothing more than to collapse and rest, but he would not let unconsciousness claim him. When it strove to take him under by force he fought it with all of his might, trying to ignore the way the sweat dripped down his body and face, making it nearly unbearably stuffy and hot under the hood. His occasional screams had gradually diminished until they were no more, his voice no longer able to create such a sound. The sole thoughts on his mind were to breathe and to endure. Breathe and endure.

  


After a long while, the darkness and pain became too much for the prince, and tears began to run from his eyes in a steady stream. He cursed himself for being so weak, but could do nothing to control the sobs that began to sound in his chest. It was simply too much, the blackness that covered him and the strain on his body that he was helpless to do anything to ease. 

  


And when he sniffled, he felt panic wash over him as he became aware of another problem. He was becoming so congested that he couldn't inhale a sufficient enough amount of air through his nose. The airway from his mouth was completely blocked by the gag. 

  


Whimpering, Legolas tried hard to writhe his body in its tight confinement, to drag in air through his nose. His heart hammered fiercely in his chest as he fought against his bonds and the walls. Pressing his face against the stone, he frantically rubbed the hood and gag against it, hoping they would come loose. Neither did, and with a sickening realization he found he could no longer breathe through his nose.

  


He was going to suffocate.

  


TBC...

  



	7. Farmaen

Disclaimer and other such things in previous chapters.  
  
It feels good to be back!  
  
-There is a female OC introduced in this chapter. She will not be falling in love with Legolas. He will not be falling in love with her. They will not be attracted to each other in any way. She does not have superpowers of any sort. In short, she is not a Marysue.  
  
Just giving you a heads up! These days, it seems a rare thing when the main female OC is not an antagonist and does not catch a canon character's eye in some way.

----------

Part 7: Farmaen

----------

Faregon could barely help not grinning as he followed Dantar down the dark halls to the dungeon and the room which contained the kennel. Four guards were trailing behind them, although he deemed them a most likely unnecessary precaution. Were he even able to fight them now, he knew the Elf would be far too weak to contend against the strength of any single one of them. Such treatment would have been far too much for a man to stand. The will of the Elves was truly a wondrous thing.  
  
Finally he would have the chance to explore the will and strengths of his new slave, and wear them down to break and mold to his desires. He could not wait for the exhilarating feeling of having something so powerful under his complete control and dominance. Though the Elf was likely some centuries older than he, Faregon knew that the creature could be counted among the younger of his kind. It was easier to instill fear in him than it would be a far older Elf, thus it would be easier to force obedience. He doubted the Elf had ventured beyond the borders of his homeland much, and likely had never been taken captive ere now. Though it would be pleasing to command and manipulate a being of strength and dexterity, to beat down and domineer something of youthfulness and beauty would be equally enjoyable. The Elf was worth more than gold and jewels; he could not wait until it was properly trained so he could flaunt his prize.   
  
When they reached the room, Dantar opened the door and stepped inside, standing near the wall and folding his arms across his chest. Faregon glanced at the man and smiled in satisfaction before heading towards the small door of the kennel.   
  
But as he neared, he paused at the peculiar sound he caught from inside.  
  
He quickly kneeled and listened to the muted pounding sounds from inside, frowning. Thinking it strange that the Elf would be struggling at this stage of his confinement, he opened the window and peered inside, alarmed to find the Elf convulsing and choked sounds coming from his throat.  
  
"He is suffocating!" Faregon hissed, hurriedly placing the key into the lock and opening the kennel.  
  
The Elf spilled out, thrashing uncontrollably around on the ground. Dantar quickly moved to the Elf, barking at the guards. "Hold him down!" They immediately complied, pushing the Elf into ground on his stomach and doing their best to still his frantic weakening struggles.  
  
Dantar quickly placed a knee on the back of the Elf's neck to still his head and untied the hood with expert fingers, ripping it off. He worked on the buckles of the ball gag and lifted his knee from the Elf's neck, releasing it and pulling the item from the Elf's mouth. A large gasp immediately followed from the prone Elf, who greedily sucked air into his heaving lungs, his body shaking as he attempted to turn on his side.  
  
Dantar sat back, waving the guards off as he waited for the Elf to regain his breath. The Elf turned on his side and curled in on himself, his eyes shut tight. The men waited tensely for the Elf's breathing to calm. When the gasps lessened considerably, Dantar rolled the Elf onto his back and grabbed his chin, holding his face for inspection.  
  
The Elf's cheeks were flushed, his breathing still ragged, and there was a wetness on his cheeks that revealed the tears he had wept. A redness surrounded the inside of his mouth, which remained open even after he regained his breath. His eyes were reddened with unshed tears and glazed from weakness and the near-death experience he'd just encountered. Dantar tilted the Elf's chin, ignoring his wince of pain as he checked the inside of the Elf's mouth for blisters.  
  
After a moment, Dantar sighed and released the Elf. "He will be fine," he said to an anxiously observing Faregon. "I suspect that as he began to weep, the tears caused his nose to congest. He had no other means of breathing. He suffered no harm, only a few areas of his mouth rubbed raw." Dantar motioned to the guards. "Take him to be cleaned up again. Keep an eye on him; gag him if he tries to drink the water."   
  
The guards nodded, and bent to pick up the bound Elf, who weakly cringed away from them. When they attempted to stand him on his feet, the Elf simply slumped between them as if unconscious. One of the guards grabbed him and hefted his light body over his shoulder, carrying him out of the room.  
  
"Dantar," Faregon said softly, his eyes flashing in anger. "I need to speak with you."

---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ----------

Farmaen cautiously made her way through the great halls of Faregon's mansion, keeping a weather eye out for any authority figures who might have been around. She did not wish to be caught neglecting her duties. But truly, she had so few that it would be easy enough for it to be missed were she to take some minutes of.   
  
Yet finding time away from work was not the entire reason for her neglect. Earlier she had overheard Thaerwyn speaking with Kaswyn about something she had heard from their father. It was always interesting to watch the younger of the two stare wide eyed at her older sibling as if she understood every word being spoken. But being only nearly two years of age, Kaswyn could not hope to grasp most of the words in the one sided conversations her sister composed. Neither had been aware of the third party listening in on them, nor did they hear her muffled gasp as she listened to Thaerwyn's exuberant revelation.  
  
There was an Elf in the castle.  
  
Farmaen had never seen an Elf in her twenty years of living, and she wanted clarification that this was not merely the cause of the vivid imagination of an eight year old.  
  
She did not acknowledge the guards she passed, simply kept her head held high and acted like she was doing what she was supposed to be doing. She had gathered from the gossip in the kitchens that Faregon was in his throne room conversing with a foreign man.   
  
Farmaen knew of a passageway that led high on one of the walls of the throne room and allowed her to peek into the room and survey the occurrences. She had heard from some of the elder servants that at one time the room was used by Faregon's father to have his men spy on any visitors. No one else cared to use it now, as far as she knew, and it had been that way for years. She considered telling Thaerwyn and Kaswyn about it as soon as they were old enough. It would be rather amusing to see what trouble those two could stir up with such an efficient hiding place.  
  
She reached the door, which blended superbly in with the rest of the stone wall. She glanced around once to ensure no one was watching, then pushed the two stones that would release the lock on the door and pushed it open. Slipping inside, she gingerly closed it behind her and crept up to the part of the wall she knew held the opening she would watch from. Already she could hear Faregon's voice.  
  
As she put her eyes to the hole, she saw Faregon pacing furiously before a strange red haired man who she had seen once before. At the time, she had thought nothing of his visit; she had not even bothered to spy on him. Now she found herself wishing she had.  
  
"I just simply cannot believe this!" Faregon hissed. "All this time waiting for and Elf and now that I finally have him, he nearly dies before I can use him!"  
  
Farmaen held back a gasp, listening more intently.  
  
"The ball gag was your idea, Lord Faregon." the foreign man said, staying where he was standing with his arms folded before him.  
  
"And to use the kennel yours!" Faregon shot back.  
  
The foreign man kept his voice calm. "You will recall my voiced concerns of using that item when confining the Elf. Be that as it may, this can very well be brought about as advantageous. The Elf lives, and suffers no physical damage whatsoever from the event. But I do not doubt that now, because of what occurred, his fear of the kennel will be much more than it would have been. That threat will now have a greater impact on him than we could have anticipated otherwise. Though I do not recommend use of the ball gag once more, unless you alter the item so he will be able to breathe through his mouth."  
  
Faregon had ceased pacing while the other spoke, and was now silent. At length, he sighed. "I've ordered my guards to place the Elf in a cell. I will wait a little longer before using him to ensure his full recovery from the experience. I take no chances. For the moment, I will rest."  
  
Dantar nodded. "Prince Legolas of Mirkwood will kneel at your feet, Lord Faregon, before the night ends."  
  
Farmaen drew back, her eyes wide. It was true, then! An Elf here!  
  
Her heart beat with excitement as she carefully made to exit, checking through a few other holes to make sure none were outside.  
  
Farmaen's curiosity was great. She wanted to see this Elf, even if it meant the merest glimpse. Faregon rarely had guards in the dungeons and certainly with only one captive, there was no need to place them there now. She knew that Faregon was a man who saw no real need for unnecessary precautions when it came to the surety of his prisoners. No captive had ever escaped him.  
  
She walked fast through the halls, acting normal and giving those around her no cause to suspect her of such behavior as she was about to commit. Stealthily she crept through the mansion. She knew this place very well.  
  
Entering the dungeon, she glanced about to see if there were any guards present. There were none.  
  
Smiling in smug satisfaction, she looked at the cells, surprised to find only one closed. And although it was closed, it remained unlocked.  
  
This was where the Elf was held.  
  
She placed her ear to the door and listened carefully, but could hear nothing.  
  
Her hands trembling with nervousness, Farmaen carefully pushed the door open, striving for as little sound as possible. It was not guards on the outside who she feared would hear, but the occupant of the cell. When it was open enough she entered the room, which was formed so that the walls around the door were narrow and eventually broadened. Anyone inside or entering would not see the other until they stepped passed the narrow walls and into the main part of the cell.  
  
Pressing herself near a wall, Farmaen slowly made her way to the corner that made way for the larger part of the cell. Her heart hammered furiously in her chest as her excitement grew. She held her breath as she neared the corner, pressed against the wall.  
  
She leaned over, peeking around the stone and bracing herself.  
  
She saw the form of the Elf lying curled on his side on the cold, hard floor. Her eyes could barely make out the steady rise and fall of his chest, though she could not hear him breathing. Beautiful blond hair splayed over his shoulders and head, concealing his face from view and softly shining as the torchlight danced across him. A small gasp was stifled in her throat as she spotted a gently pointed ear, proving everything she had heard. The creature wore only a pair of green leggings that clung low on his hips, probably having once been held up by a belt or sash. His bare flesh was pale, a few bruises the only mars she could identify. His body was tall and lean, the very muscles under his skin seeming to contain a smooth elegance about them.  
  
Holding her emotions in check, she gave a quick glance over the rest of the cell. There was a single torch on each wall, for the dungeons were placed underground and no sunlight or moonlight could penetrate even had there been a window of some sort.   
  
There was a metal ring held flush against the stone floor near his legs, a short chain running from the ring to a pair of metal shackles that held his wrists tightly together before him, looking crude and cumbersome on his limbs. Another short chain ran from the shackles along his body, disappearing under the fall of his hair. Through the gold silken locks she could see the flash of metal, most likely a collar.   
  
Her fear dissipating somewhat with the knowledge that he was sufficiently restrained, Farmaen allowed her eyes to venture to the rest of the cell. The only other item within was a small bowl that appeared to be filled with water, sitting on the stones some feet away and against the wall. Judging the distance of the captive to the bowl, it appeared to have been placed just out of his reach. A scowl creasing on her forehead, Farmaen turned back to continue an examination of the Elf.  
  
And was met with two piercing blue orbs that seemed to sear her very soul.  
  
Her heart seemed to pause its beating within her breast as horror filtered through her being. She felt trapped by his gaze, her mouth opened in a soundless scream. A few seconds later she found her voice and let out a shaky cry, quickly bolting back to the door of the cell.  
  
"Wait!"  
  
Farmaen paused as the Elf's gruff and tired voice reached her ears, not daring to move. The clink of chains began to echo through the room as the Elf shifted about and began breathing heavily in exertion. Farmaen held her breath as she waited. Eventually, the sound of the chains subsided, and a moment later the Elf's breathing quieted.  
  
She should have left then. She knew it. But one look was certainly not enough.  
  
Gathering her determination, she again peeked around the corner.  
  
The Elf was kneeling now, his head bowed, his hands clasped together before him as if praying.   
  
"I bear you no malice, my lady."   
  
The Elf's soft words nearly startled her into hiding again, but she found herself freezing in surprise at what was spoken. Indeed, no malevolence was there to detect in his voice, and besides, he could not escape to harm her in any way. Her courage rising, Farmaen managed to fully reveal herself. The Elf slowly raised his head to look at her, his chains clinking. His tired eyes did not seem to scald her as they had before.  
  
"So you truly are an Elf," she breathed.  
  
The creature nodded, and she sensed the great weariness that came with the movement. "Although several times of late I find myself wondering if I wouldn't wish it otherwise."  
  
"You are an Elf and a prince." Farmaen said, remembering the foreign man's words. "And your name is Legolas."  
  
"Aye." the Elf said, though if he was confused as to the source of her knowledge, he gave no sign.  
  
"I am Farmaen."   
  
With each word spoken she grew bolder, stepping closer to the Elf and finding herself taken with his beauty. She nearly reached out to touch his face, wanting to know how his skin would feel under her fingers, but stopped herself and drew her hand back. Legolas watched her movements with no flicker of expression.  
  
"How could an Elf prince possibly be enslaved?"  
  
A flash of bitterness came onto the Elf's face. "A misfortune of the greatest kind, truly. I traveled only with one other, and so close to my home I had not fathomed the danger. We were outnumbered, by far."  
  
"And the other Elf? Where is he?"  
  
"I wish I knew." A sadness came about in his gaze, adding to the already unhealthy look he exhibited. "A dear friend he was to me. There has been no sign of another Elf being held here?"  
  
Farmaen shook her head. "You are the first I have ever seen." She paused for a moment, suddenly feeling it inappropriate to be standing before a being such as this when he could do naught but stay on his knees before her. She lowered herself onto the ground until she was kneeling and eye to eye with the other. "I had heard Faregon speaking. He said you were to be 'used.' I am not sure what that meant."  
  
She saw the Elf nearly flinch at her words, his hands clenching into fists. "Faregon's desire for an Elf was driven by impure base human need."  
  
It took her a few moments to understand what that meant, having seldom been exposed to such slaves during her lifetime. Her eyes widened as her mind's comprehension became complete. "A pleasure thrall?"  
  
A snarl came onto the Elf's face, and even though presented with his clear weakness she had to hold herself from bolting away in fear. "Indeed." he said lowly.   
  
"You are entirely unwilling?"  
  
"Were I not, would there be need for chains?" he asked. "No Elf has ever willingly served a man in such a manner." He snorted in contempt. "And only a cowardly and abhorrent man would unfairly take a captive and keep him bound and at such a clear disadvantage." He shifted his gaze to his bound wrists, and she thought she caught his eyes flicker to the bowl against the wall.  
  
Farmaen's ire suddenly rose at the callous words spoken. "Faregon is neither cowardly nor abhorrent!" she said angrily. "He is a great man and kind to his servants. If you would but follow his orders you would not need to be kept in such a state. More likely he keeps you down here to protect the others of this household."  
  
"I did not ask for this." the Elf said indignantly, his voice becoming angrier despite his clear lack of strength. "I would never harm an innocent, nor would many others of my kind. No kindness did I receive when I was taken from the lands I knew and stripped of my title. No kindness did I receive when he withheld food and water from me, as he does even now. And no kindness did I receive when I was chained down here and left to remain unknowing of what the future will bring, only with the knowledge that it shall not be pleasant. Tell me, my lady, is it kindness when one is bound, mocked, beaten, and silenced?"  
  
Farmaen's eyes were wide at the Elf's words and the sincerity of them. For the first time she truly noticed the other ailments he faced, and felt shame take hold from her foolishness. There were dark rings under his eyes, and his face was unhealthily pale. His body was beginning to thin, and he spoke as if it was strenuous to simply get the words out. His wrists were chaffed from being bound, and she thought she saw abrasions on the edges of his mouth.  
  
"What you speak must be true..." she said, cursing herself for her ignorance, but incredulous that Lord Faregon was capable of such cruelty. "You are the first I have ever seen treated so unjustly by him. I ask for your forgiveness. I acted not the maiden I was brought up to be."  
  
The Elf's eyes softened, and in them she could still see the pride that he so forcefully kept guarded. "You are forgiven, my lady."  
  
"Please, call me Farmaen." she said with a small blush. "I feel uncomfortable being addressed so by an Elf."  
  
He gave a slow nod. "Very well, Farmaen." He was silent for a moment, his eyes averting to contemplate the shackles on his wrists. "I perceive it is with risk you have ventured down here." he murmured, looking back up at her.  
  
Farmaen felt her blush return full force. "Faregon would punish me were I caught snooping around the dungeons. None are allowed down here without his permission."  
  
She thought she saw his eyes travel briefly to the bowl against the wall once more, and remembered what he had said about being given no food or water. She realized that the bowl of water had been placed there by the guards to further torment the Elf, to have sustenance so close and yet unreachable. Sadness filled her heart at the horrid treatment.   
  
Farmaen got to her feet, her expression grave, and stepped over to the small bowl. She could feel the Elf's eyes following her movements. Bending over, she gently grasped the bowl and lifted it, moving slowly so as to not spill the liquid inside. She turned back to the Elf, seeing a hint of longing in his eyes that he could not hide. Farmaen moved back before Legolas, careful of her dress as she knelt before him again. Wordlessly she held the bowl up to his face. He stared at the offered bowl and then his eyes moved to hers.  
  
"Drink." she said. "I cannot bear to see anyone suffer so."  
  
Something strange flashed in the Elf's eyes as he regarded her. Farmaen felt a chill run up her spine from being scrutinized by those intense eyes once more. Then his eyes went back to the bowl and he leaned forward to prepare to drink the life-giving liquid within.  
  
Suddenly, before his lips reached the bowl, the Elf's head shot back up and his eyes widened.   
  
"What is it?" Farmaen asked.  
  
"Men approach." he whispered. "You must leave. Place the bowl back over by the wall where you took it so there is no suspicion. Hurry!"  
  
Her heart pounding, Farmaen followed the Elf's words, putting the bowl back against the wall and then hurrying out of the cell, escaping her only thought. She closed the door to the Elf's cell behind her, then looked down the corridor that led to the exit. She heard voices begin drifting through along with heavy footsteps. Panicked, she realized she would be caught if she went that way. She gazed about and quickly making a decision bolted into the cell next to the Elf's. Once inside she pressed herself against a wall in the shadows and sunk to the floor, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them as she listened intently to the sounds approaching.  
  
She could hear Faregon's familiar voice murmuring to someone, becoming louder and gaining more clarity as they neared. Farmaen wrapped her arms tighter as she heard them open the door to the cell. She heard chains rattle and then Faregon's soft, self-assured voice sounded. A biting reply came from Legolas, and a large smack reverberated off the walls as flesh connected with flesh. She winced, knowing that Faregon had hit the Elf. Then Faregon's voice raised enough so that she could make out the words.  
  
"Guards, ready the slave for his first training lesson."  
  
The clink of the chains returned for a few moments, along with Faregon's murmuring and the Elf's contemptuous replies. Suddenly the Elf's voice was cut off and the sounds of a struggle arose. It was brief, and she was startled to hear a whimper follow soon after. Faregon's voice returned again, low and dangerous. Farmaen strained to hear what was said, what threats were spoken, but the man's voice was too quiet to pierce the stone between cells. She could hear no reply from Legolas.  
  
The thump of footsteps returned as the guards and Faregon left the cell. Farmaen listened to them go down the hall, standing and creeping over to the door of the cell once she felt they were far enough. She held tight to the wall as she glanced around the door with one eye to watch the guards and Faregon leaving the dungeons. Legolas was trailing behind them, pulled along by a chain connected to his collar. The Elf put up little resistance as he was led away.  
  
"I've no duties to attend to for a few hours." Faregon's voice drifted down the corridor to her ears. The man stood near the Elf and took his chain from the guard, yanking on it hard and forcing the Elf's head close. From the distance Farmaen could make out the black cloths tied over the Elf's eyes and mouth. "I cannot wait to taste you..."  
  
Farmaen shut her eyes and turned her head away as Faregon began to lick his way along the Elf's neck. A muffled protest came from the slave, but Faregon only chuckled. "From now on, speaking is a privilege. You will gain more freedom with obedience."  
  
Farmaen opened her eyes once more to see the group disappear as they left the dungeons, Faregon's voice drifting away. As soon as the voices faded she allowed herself to relax, feeling the disgust curl in her belly and weakness come over her as her adrenaline faded. But she knew she could not think on this now. She had to get back to finish her duties.  
  
She walked briskly towards the door to the exit of the dungeons, her mind still reeling despite her attempts to quell her roiling thoughts. She had to focus on other things, not think of the Elf or of what would happen to him. She would see him again. She promised herself she would see him again. Decision set, Farmaen made for the kitchens, intending to sneak some food and drink to hide away for later. She was going to offer the Elf whatever meager aid she could.  
  
TBC...  
  
Next Chapter: "First Lesson" ... ::evil smile::


End file.
